Bolt: The Sorcerer's Stone
by FredNeverDied
Summary: If Harry was the leader, Hermione the brains, Ron the glue that kept them together, who was the wild card? This is Lilly Potter who has no filter between her mind and mouth and a penchant for getting into trouble. Different from JK's original and the other sisterfics!harrypotter, I assure you. Please R/R!
1. The First Survivors

**A/N: alright so I know this has been done many times before but I came up with harry potter's twin sister over two years ago and have developed her alot since then. You'll notice the differences in her and Harry more as the chapters go along (obviously not this one so much as they can't even talk yet). Feel free to skip until you see a change that I have made for Lilly Potter in this one but if you read in detail, there are alot of little things I tweaked. Hope you enjoy! **

**P.S. No, I am not JK Rowling...but I should be. **

Bolt: The Sorcerer's Stone

Chapter One: The First Survivors

Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of Number Four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. They were the very last people you would expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they just didn't hold with such nonsense.

Mr. Dursley was the director of a firm called Grunnings, which made drills. He was a big beefy man with hardly any neck, although he did have a very large mustache which he was quite proud of. Mrs. Dursley was thin and blonde and bony and had nearly twice the usual amount of neck, which came in quite handy for her hobby which was to crane of the garden fences, spying on the neighbors. The Dursleys had a small son called Dudley and in their opinion, there was no finer boy anywhere.

The Dursleys had everything they wanted, but they also had a secret, and their greatest fear was that someone would discover it. They didn't think they could bear it if someone found out about the Potters.

Mrs. Potter was Mrs. Dursley's sister, but they hadn't met in several years; in fact, Mrs. Dursley pretended that she didn't have a sister, because her sister and her good-for-nothing husband were just as unDursleyish as anyone could be. The Dursleys shuddered to think what the neighbors would think, (and heaven forbid _say_,) if the Potters were to arrive in the middle of the street. The Dursleys knew that the Potters also had two small children, twins, a boy and a girl, but the Dursleys had never seen them. The twins were another good two reasons for keeping the Potters away; the Dursleys didn't want their innocent little Dudley mixing with children like _that_!

Our story begins on a dull gray Tuesday when the Dursleys woke up. There was nothing about the cloudy sky that suggested that strange and mysterious things would be happening all over the country. Mr. Dursley hummed as he picked out his most boring tie for work, and Mrs. Dursley gossiped away happily as she wrestled a screaming Dudley into his high chair.

None of them noticed a large tawny owl flutter past the sitting room window.

At half past eight, Mr. Dursley picked up his briefcase, pecked Mrs. Dursley on the cheek, and tried to give Dudley a kiss but had to duck out of the way as Dudley decided that he didn't want his cereal and began throwing it against the walls. "Little tyke," chortled Mr. Dursley as he left for the office. He got into his car and backed out of number four's drive.

It was on the corner of the street that he noticed the first peculiar thing of the morning –a cat reading a map. For a second, Mr. Dursley didn't realize what he'd seen-then he slammed on brakes and jerked his head around to look again. There was the tabby cat standing on the corner of Privet Drive-but there wasn't a map in sight. Mr. Dursley shook his head to clear it. What could he have been thinking of? It must have been a trick of the light. Mr. Dursley blinked and stared at the cat. The cat stared back. As Mr. Dursley drove around the corner and up the road; he watched the cat in his rearview mirror. It was now reading the sign that said Privet Drive –no, _looking_ at the sign; cats couldn't read maps _or_ signs. Mr. Dursley gave himself a little shake and put the cat out of his mind. As he drove toward the town he thought of nothing but the large shipment of drills he was hoping to get that day.

But on the edge of town, drills were driven from is mind by something else. As he sat in the usual morning traffic jam, he couldn't help noticing that there seemed to be a lot of strangely dressed people about. People in cloaks. Mr. Dursley couldn't bear people who dressed in funny clothes –the getups you saw on young people! He supposed it was some stupid new fashion. But still, Mr. Dursley rolled his windows down to get a better look at the weirdoes. His eyes fell on a huddle of the strange people standing close by. They were whispering together excitedly. Mr. Dursley was shocked to see that a few of them weren't young people at all; why, that man had to be older than he was, and wearing an emerald green cloak, too! The nerve of him! But then it struck him that this was probably some stunt –these people were obviously collecting money…yes that would be it.

As he passed by the group with the old emerald-green cloaked man, he heard one of them say

"…yes…they spelled it with two l's instead of one, Lilly. The joke was that it was to tell the girl and her mother apart."

A few of them laughed but it was a sad effort and no one really seemed to enjoy the joke. The name rang a bell in Mr. Dursley's head but then the traffic moved on and a few minutes later; Mr. Dursley had arrived in the Grunnings parking lot, his mind back on drills.

Mr. Dursley always sat with his back to the window in his office on the ninth floor. If he hadn't, he might have found it harder to concentrate on drills that morning. He didn't see the owls swooping past in broad daylight, though the people down below did; they pointed and gazed open-mouthed as owl after owl sped overhead. Most of them had never even seen in owl at night. Mr. Dursley, however, had a perfectly normal, owl-free morning. He yelled at five different people. He made several very important telephone calls and then shouted a bit more. By lunchtime he was in a great mood and decided he go and stretch his legs for a walk across the road to buy himself a bun from the bakery.

He'd forgotten all about the people in cloaks until he passed a group of them next to the baker's. He eyed them angrily as he passed. He didn't know what it was about them that made him feel so uneasy. This bunch was whispering excitedly, too; and he couldn't see a single collecting tin among them. It was on his way back past them, now clutching a bag that held a doughnut and a large muffin that he caught a few words of what this group was saying.

"The Potters, that's right, that's what I heard-"

"Yes, their two children, Harry and Lilly-"

Mr. Dursley stopped dead. Fear flooded him. He now remembered where Lilly had rung a bell before. Surely these people couldn't be talking of his–_no_! He looked back at the whisperers as if he wanted to say something to them, but thought the better of it.

He dashed across the road, hurried up to his office, snapped at the secretary not to disturb him, seized the telephone and had almost finished dialing his home number when he changed his mind. He put the receiver back down and stroked his mustache, thinking…no, he was being stupid. Potter wasn't such an unusual name. He was sure there were lots of people called Potter…even sure that there were lots of people called Potter with two children named Harry and Lilly. Come to think of it, he wasn't even sure that those were his niece and nephew's names. He had never even seen them. The boy must have been Harold. Or Harvey. And the girl, they hadn't _really_ named her after the mother, had they? No, no, she was some _other_ flower name like Rose or Violet…or even Daisy. There was no point in worrying Mrs. Dursley; she always got upset at any mention of her sister. He couldn't blame her, though–if _he'd_ had a sister like that… but all the same, those people in cloaks…

Mr. Dursley found it a lot harder to concentrate on drills that afternoon and when he left the building at five o'clock, he was still so worried that he walked straight into someone just outside the door.

"Sorry," he grunted, as the tiny old man stumbled and almost fell. It was a few seconds before Mr. Dursley realized that this man was also wearing a violet cloak. He didn't seem at all upset at being almost knocked to the ground. On the contrary, his face split into a wide smile and he said in a squeaky voice that made passerby stare,

"Don't be sorry, my dear sir, for nothing could upset me today! Rejoice, for You-Know–Who has gone at last! Even Muggles like yourself should be celebrating this happy, happy day!"

And then, the short old man hugged Mr. Dursley around the legs because that was all he could reach, and walked off.

Mr. Dursley stood rotted to the spot. He had just been hugged by a complete stranger. He had also been called a Muggle, whatever that was. He was rattled. He hurried to his car and set off for home, hoping that he was imagining things, which he had never hoped before, because Mr. Dursley didn't approve of imagination.

As he pulled into the driveway of Number Four the first thing he saw –and it didn't improve his mood–was the tabby cat he'd spotted that morning. It was now sitting on his garden wall. He was sure it was the same one; it had the same markings around its eyes.

"Shoo!" Mr. Dursley shouted at the cat.

The cat didn't move. It just gave him a stern look. Was this normal cat behavior? Mr. Dursley wondered. Trying to pull himself together, he let himself into the house. He was determined not to mention anything to his wife.

Mrs. Dursley had had a nice normal day. She told him over dinner all about Mrs. Next Door's problems with her daughter and how Dudley had learned a new word ("Won't!"). Mr. Dursley tried to act normally. When Dudley had been put to bed, he went into the living room to catch the last report of the evening news.

"And finally, bird-watchers everywhere have reported that the nation's owls have been behaving very unusually today. Although owls normally hunt at night and are hardly ever seen in daylight, there have been hundreds of sightings of these birds flying in every direction since sunrise. Experts are unable to explain why the owls have suddenly changed their sleeping patterns." The newscaster allowed himself a grin. "Most mysterious. And now, over to Jim McGuffin with the weather. Going to be any more showers of owls tonight, Jim?

"Well, Ted," said the weatherman, "I don't know about that, but it's not only the owls that have been acting oddly today. Viewers as far apart as Kent, Yorkshire, and Dundee have been phoning in to me that instead of the rain I promised yesterday, they've had a downpour of shooting stars! Perhaps people have been celebrating Bonfire Night too early –that's not until next week, folks! But I can promise a wet night tonight."

Mr. Dursley sat frozen in his armchair. Shooting stars all over Britain? Owls flying by daylight? Mysterious people in cloaks all over the place? And a whisper, a whisper about the Potters…

Mrs. Dursley came into the living carrying tow cups of tea. It was no good. He'd have to say something to her. He cleared his throat nervously.

"Er –Petunia, dear –you haven't heard from your sister lately, have you?"

As he had expected, Mrs. Dursley looked shocked and angry. After all, they normally pretended she didn't have a sister.

"No." she said sharply. "Why?"

"Funny stuff in the news," Mr. Dursley mumbled. "Owls…shooting stars…and there were a lot of funny-looking people in town today…

"_So_?" snapped Mrs. Dursley.

"Well, I just thought…maybe…it was something to do with… you know… _her crowd_."

Mrs. Dursley sipped her tea through pursed lips. Mr. Dursley wondered whether he dare tell her he'd heard the name "Potter."

He decided he didn't dare. Instead he said, as casually as he could,

"Their twins –they'd be about Dudley's age by now, wouldn't they?"

"I suppose so," said Mrs. Dursley stiffly.

"What're their names again? Howard and Buttercup, isn't it?"

"Harry and Lilly. Nasty common name for him if you ask me, and _why_ they named her after the mother I don't know!"

"Yes," said Mr. Dursley, his heart sinking horribly. "Yes, I quite agree."

"He didn't say another word on the subject as they went upstairs to bed. While Mrs. Dursley was in the bathroom, Mr. Dursley crept to the bedroom window and peered down out into the front garden. The cat was still there. It was staring down Privet Drive as though it were waiting for something.

Was he imagining things? Could this all have something to do with the Potters? If it did…and if it got out that he was related to a family of…well he didn't think he could bear it.

The Dursleys got into bed. Mrs. Dursley fell asleep quickly but Mr. Dursley laid a wake, turning it over in his mind. His last comforting thought was that even if the Potters _were_ involved, there was no reason for them to come near him and Mrs. Dursley. The Potters knew very well what he and Petunia thought about their kind…. He couldn't see how he and Petunia could get mixed up in anything that might be going on–yawned and turned over–it couldn't affect _them_…

Mr. Dursley might have been drifting into and uneasy sleep, but the cat on the wall outside was showing no sign of sleepiness. It was sitting as still as a statue, its eyes fixed on the far corner of Privet Drive. It didn't as much as quiver when a car door was slammed on the next street over, nor when two owls swooped low overhead. In fact, it was nearly midnight before the cat moved at all.

A man appeared on the corner that the cat was watching, appeared so suddenly and silently you'd had thought he'd just popped up out of the ground. The cat's tail twitched, its eyes narrowed.

Nothing like this man had ever been seen before on Privet Drive. He was tall, thin, and very old, judging by the silver of his hair and beard which were both long enough for him to tuck into his belt. He was wearing long robes, a purple cloak that swept the ground, and high-heeled, buckled boots. His electric blue eyes were bright and sparkling behind his half-moon spectacles and his nose was very long and crooked, as though it had been broken at least twice. This man's name was Albus Dumbledore.

Albus Dumbledore didn't seem to realize that he had just arrived in a street where everything from his name to his boots were unwelcome. He was busy rummaging in his cloak, looking for something. But he did seem to realize that he was being watched, because he suddenly looked up at the cat, which was still staring at him from the other end of the street. For some reason, the sight of the cat seemed to amuse him. He chuckled and muttered,

"I should have known."

Albus Dumbledore found what he was looking for inside his pocket. It seemed to be a silver cigarette lighter. He flicked it open, held it up in the air, and clicked it. The nearest street lamp went out with small pop. He clicked it again–the next lamp flickered into darkness. Twelve times he clicked the Put-Outer, until the only lights left on the whole street were two tiny pinpricks in the distance, which were the eyes of the cat watching him. If anyone had looked out of their window now, even beady-eyed Mrs. Dursley, they wouldn't have been able to see anything that was happening down on the pavement. Dumbledore slipped the Put-Outer back inside his cloak and set off down the street toward number four, where he sat down on the wall next to the cat. He didn't look at it, but after a moment, he spoke to it.

"Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall."

He turned to smile at the tabby, but it had gone. Instead, he was smiling at a rather severe-looking woman who was wearing square glasses exactly like the shape of the markings the cat had had around its eyes. She, too, was wearing a cloak, an emerald one. Her black hair was drawn into a tight bun. She looked distinctly ruffled.

"How did you know it was me?" she asked.

"My dear Professor, I've never seen a cat sit so stiffly."

"You'd be stiff, too, if you'd been sitting on a brick wall all day," said Professor McGonagall.

"All day? When you could have been celebrating? I must have passed a dozen feasts and parties on my way here."

Professor McGonagall sniffed angrily.

"Oh yes, everyone's celebrating, all right," she said impatiently. "You'd think they'd be a bit more careful but no –even Muggles have noticed something's going on. It was on their news." She jerked her head back at the Dursley's dark living room window. "I heard it. Flocks of owls…shooting stars…Well, they're not completely stupid. They were bound to notice something. Shooting stars down in Kent –I'll bet that was Dedalus Diggle. He never had much sense."

"You can't blame them," Dumbledore said gently, "We've had precious little to celebrate for eleven years."

"I know that," said Professor McGonagall irritably. "But that's no reason to loose our heads. People are becoming downright careless, out on the streets in broad daylight, not even dressed in Muggle clothes, swapping rumors."

She threw a sharp sideways glance at Dumbledore, as though hoping he was going to tell her something, but he didn't, so she went on. "A fine thing it would be if, on the very day that You-Know-Who seems to have finally disappeared at last, the Muggles found out about us all. I suppose he _has_ gone, Dumbledore?"

"It certainly seems so," said Dumbledore. "We have much to be thankful for. Would you care for a lemon drop?"

"A _what_?"

"A lemon drop. They're a kind of Muggle sweet I've become rather fond of."

"No, thank you," said Professor McGonagall coldly, as if she didn't think this was the right moment for lemon drops. "As I say, even if You-Know-Who _has_ gone –"

"My dear Professor, surely a sensible person like yourself can call him by his name? All this 'You-Know-Who' nonsense –for eleven years I have been trying to persuade people to call him by his proper name: _Voldemort_." Professor McGonagall flinched, but Dumbledore, who was unsticking two lemon drops, seemed not to notice. "It all gets so confusing if we keep saying 'You-Know-Who.' I have never seen any reason to be frightened of saying Voldemort's name."

"I know you haven't," said Professor McGonagall, sounding half-exasperated, half-admiring. "But you're different. Everyone knows that you're the only one You-Know-oh all right, _Voldemort_, was ever frightened of."

"You flatter me," said Dumbledore calmly. "Voldemort had powers I will never have."

"Only because you're too–well–_noble_ to use them."

"It's lucky it's dark. I haven't blushed so much since Madam Pomfrey told me she liked my new earmuffs."

Professor McGonagall shot a sharp look at Dumbledore and said,

"The owls are nothing next to the _rumors_ that are flying around. You know what everyone's saying? About why he's disappeared? About what finally happened to him?"

It seemed that Professor McGonagall had reached the point she was most anxious to discuss, the real reason she had been waiting on a cold hard wall all day, for neither as a cat nor a woman did she fix Dumbledore with such a piercing stare as she did now. It was plain that whatever "everyone" was saying, she was not going to believe it until Dumbledore told her it was true. Dumbledore, however, was choosing another lemon drop and did not answer.

"What they're _saying_," she pressed on, "is that last night, Voldemort turned up in Godric's Hollow. He went to find the Potters. The rumor is that Lily and James Potter are–are–that they're–_dead_."

Dumbledore bowed his head. Professor McGonagall gasped.

"Lily and James…I can't believe it…I didn't want to believe it…Oh Albus…"

Dumbledore reached out and patted her on the shoulder.

"I know," he said heavily, "I know…"

Professor McGonagall's voice trembled as she went on.

"That's not all." she continued, "They're saying that he tried to kill the little twins in one go, too. But–he couldn't. He couldn't kill two little children. No one knows how or why, but they're saying that when he couldn't kill Harry and Lilly Potter, Voldemort's power somehow broke–that's why he's gone."

Dumbledore nodded glumly.

"It's–it's true?" faltered Professor McGonagall. "After all he's done…all the people he'd murdered…he couldn't kill a little boy and girl? It's just astounding…of all the things to stop him…but how in the name of heaven did Harry and Lilly survive?"

"We can only guess," said Dumbledore. "We may never know."

Professor McGonagall pulled out a lace handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes beneath the spectacles. Dumbledore gave a great sniff as he took a golden watch from his pocket and examined it. It was a very odd watch. It had twelve hands but no numbers; instead, little planet were moving around the edge. It must have made sense to Dumbledore, though, because he put it back in his pocket and said, "Hagrid's late. I suppose it was he who told you I'd be here, by the way?"

"Yes," said Professor McGonagall, "And I don't suppose you're going to tell me _why_ you're here, of all places?"

"I've come to bring Harry and Lilly to their aunt and uncle. They're the only family they have left now."

"You don't mean–you can't mean the people who live _here_?" cried Professor McGonagall, jumping to her feet and pointing at Number Four. "Dumbledore–you can't! I've been watching them all day. You can't find two people less like us. And their son–I saw him kicking and punching his mother all the way up the street screaming for sweets! Harry and Lilly Potter come and live here! Don't they have grandparents?"

"As we both know, James Potter was born when his parents were older and they never had any more children."

"But –"

"And Lily's parents were killed when they didn't share their daughter's whereabouts.

"But they didn't know where she-"

"Of course not. I doubt Lily even found out about their demise in hiding. I do understand what you're saying, Professor, but I promise you that this is the best place for the pair. Their aunt and uncle will explain everything when they are older. I've written them a letter."

"A letter?" repeated Professor McGonagall faintly, sitting back down on the wall. "Really, Albus, you think you can explain all this in a letter? These people will never understand them! They'll be famous–they'll be a legend–I wouldn't be surprised if today was known as Potter day in the future–there will be books written about them, whole series–every child in our world will know their names!"

"Exactly," said Dumbledore, looking at her very seriously over his half-moon glasses. "It would be enough to turn any child's head. Famous before they can walk! Or talk! Famous for something they won't even remember! Can't you see how much better off they'll be, growing up away from all that until they're ready to take it?"

Professor McGonagall opened her mouth, changed her mind, and closed it again. Then she swallowed and said,

"Yes–yes, you're right, of course. But how are the children getting here, Dumbledore?" She eyed his cloak suddenly as though she thought he might be hiding Harry and Lilly Potter underneath it.

"Hagrid's bringing them."

"You think it–wise–to trust Hagrid with something as important as this?"

"I would trust Hagrid with my life," said Dumbledore.

"I'm not saying his heart isn't in the right place," said Professor McGonagall grudgingly, "but you can't pretend he's not a bit careless. He does tend to–what was that?"

A low rumbling sound had broken the silence around them. It grew steadily louder as they looked up and down the street for some sign of a headlight; it swelled to a roar as they both looked up at the sky–and a huge motorcycle fell out of the sky and landed in the road in front of them.

If the motorcycle was huge, it was nothing to the man sitting astride it. He was almost twice as tall as the normal man and at least four times as wide. He looked simply too big be allowed, and so wild–long tangles of bushy black hair and beard hid most of his face, he had hands the size of trash can lids, and his feet in their leather boots were like baby dolphins. In his vast muscular arms he was holding a bundle of blankets.

"Hagrid," said Dumbledore, sounding relieved. "At last. And where did you get the motorcycle?"

"Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, sir," said the giant, climbing carefully off the motorcycle as he spoke. "Young Sirius Black lent it to me. I've got them, sir."

"No problems, were there?"

"No sir…the house was almost destroyed, but I got them out all right before the Muggles started swarmin' around. She started whimperin' a bit when we took off but once I figured how ter steer the bike they seemed ter enjoy the ride. They both fell asleep just as we was flyin' over Bristol."

Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall bent forward over the bundle of blankets in Hagrid's arms. Each baby was wrapped in their own blanket and it seemed that Hagrid had wrapped another one around them together so that it was just one bundle. Lilly's fist was clenched around her blanket and her face was turned inward so they couldn't see her; but under a jet-black tuft of hair they could see on Harry's forehead, a curiously shaped cut, like a bolt of lightening.

"Is that where–?" whispered Professor McGonagall, looking to Dumbledore but it was Hagrid who answered.

"Yeah," he said, "they've both got it, righ' in the same spot."

"Will they always…?" Professor McGonagall began.

"Yes," replied Dumbledore.

"Couldn't you do something about it, Albus?"

"Even if I could, I would not. Scars can come in quite handy. I myself have one just above my left kneecap that is a perfect map of the London Underground. Well–give them here, Hagrid–we'd best get this over with."

Dumbledore took Harry in his arms and turned toward the Dursley's house.

"Could I–could I say good-bye to them, sir?" asked Hagrid He bent his great shaggy head over Harry and Lilly and gave them each in turn what must have been a very scratchy, whiskery kiss. Then suddenly, Hagrid let out a howl like a wounded dog.

"Sshhh!" hissed Professor McGonagall, "you'll wake the Muggles!"

"S-s-sorry," sobbed Hagrid, taking out a large, spotted handkerchief and burying his face in it. "But I can't stand it–Lily an' James dead–an' poor little 'Arry an' Lilly off ter live with Muggles–"

"Yes, yes, it's all very sad, but get a grip on yourself, Hagrid, or we'll be found," Professor McGonagall whispered, patting Hagrid gingerly on the arm as Dumbledore stepped over the low garden wall and walked up to the front door. He laid the bundle containing Harry and Lilly gently on the doorstep, took an envelope out of his cloak, tucked inside their blankets and then came back to the other two. For a full minute the three of them stood and looked at the little bundle; Hagrid's shoulders shook as he was racked with silent sobs, Professor McGonagall blinked furiously, and the twinkling light that normally shone from Dumbledore's eyes seemed to have gone out.

"Well," said Dumbledore finally, "that's that. We've got no business staying here. We may as well go join in the celebrations."

"Yeah," said Hagrid in a much muffled voice, "I'll be takin' Sirius his bike back. G'night, Professor McGonagall –Professor Dumbledore, sir."

Wiping his streaming eyes on his jacket sleeve, Hagrid swung himself onto the motorcycle and kicked the engine into life; with a roar it rose into the air and off into the night.

"I shall see you soon, I expect, Professor McGonagall," said Dumbledore, nodding to her. Professor McGonagall blew her nose by way of response.

Dumbledore turned and walked back down the street. On the corner he stopped and took out the silver Put-Outer. He clicked it once, and twelve balls of light shot back to their lamps so that Privet Drive glowed suddenly orange again. At the other end of the street Dumbledore could just make out a tabby cat slinking around the corner at the other end of the street. As he watched the bundle of blankets on number four's doorstep he saw Lilly's hand close around the envelope, the only sound she made was a faint whimper, and then all of Privet Drive was silent.

"Good luck, Harry and Lilly Potter," whispered Dumbledore. Then he turned on his heel and with a swish of his cloak he was gone.

A breeze ruffled the neat hedges of Privet Drive, which lay still and tidy under the inky sky, the very last place on earth where you would expect strange and astonishing things to happen. Harry Potter rubbed his nose against the blankets without waking up. One small hand joined his sister's on the envelope. The two of them slept on, not knowing they were special, not knowing they were famous, not knowing that in a few hours time, they would be unceremoniously awoken by Mrs. Dursley's screams as she opened the front door to put the milk bottles out, nor that they would spend the next few months being pinched and poked by Dudley…They didn't know that at that very moment, people meeting in secret all over the country were raising their glasses and saying in hushed voices:

"To Harry and Lilly–the first survivors!"


	2. The Vanishing Glass

Chapter Two: The Vanishing Glass

Nearly ten years had passed since the Dursleys had woken up to find their niece and nephew on the front step, but Privet Drive had hardly changed at all. The sun rose on the same tidy front gardens and lit up the brass number four on the Dursley's front door; the light crept into their living room, which was almost exactly the same as it had been on the night when Mr. Dursley had seen that fateful news report about owls. Only the photographs on the mantel piece really showed how much time had passed. Ten years ago, there had been lots of pictures if what looked like a large pink beach ball wearing different-colored bonnets–but Dudley Dursley was no longer a baby, and now the photographs showed a large blond boy riding on his first bicycle, on a carousel at the fair, playing a computer game with his father, being hugged and kissed by his mother. The room held no sign at all that two more children lived in the house, too.

Yet Harry and Lilly Potter were still there, both asleep at the moment but not for long. Their Aunt Petunia was awake however and, as always, it would be her shrill voice that was the first noise of the day.

Aunt Petunia always woke up first. She would get dressed and then make her way down the stairs into the kitchen. She would get out everything that would be needed in making breakfast and then she would go through the door off the kitchen, into the laundry room, down the steps into the basement, and bang on the door of the cupboard beneath the stairs.

"Up," she would shout, "get up!"

Then she would go back up into the laundry room, through the kitchen, out into the hallway and then bang on the door of the cupboard beneath those stairs.

"Get up! Now!"

She then walked into the dining room, sat down, and began to read a book.

Down below, in the basement, Lilly Potter stumbled out of her cupboard under the stairs and made her way groggily up into the laundry room. Her aunt acknowledged her presence by turning the page of the book. Lilly went into the hallway and, addressing the door to the second cupboard, started singing,

_Wake up, and be happy  
__Be smart, make it snappy  
__There's really no time to be slow  
__If you wonder why we are singing so quickly  
The tempo is called alegro_

_Open your eyes, smile at the skies  
The day has just begun-_

"Lilly!" shouted Aunt Petunia.

"But he won't wake up!" Lilly shouted back.

There was the sound of chair legs scooting over the floor as Aunt Petunia stood up, when the door to the second cupboard opened.

"I'm up," Harry called, stumbling and blinking out into the light. To Lilly he added, exhausted,

"Why do you always have to sing?"

"Because it's the one thing I'm good at." She replied, and walked into the kitchen and to start making breakfast. Harry rolled his eyes at her back. It was true though, Lilly had the prettiest singing voice at school and if she ever heard a song, it stuck in her head. He doubted there was song on any radio station she didn't know.

"Only thing I'm good at is making bacon for Dudley," he muttered as he followed his sister into the kitchen.

Lilly was already scrambling the eggs. He grabbed the other frying pan and began to add bacon strips to it.

"I had a weird dream last night," he told her quietly, adding more bacon to the pan, "I was in a flying motorcycle."

"You have that one a lot, don't you?" Lilly asked, shaking salt over the eggs.

"Yeah."

Lilly nodded and transferred the eggs to a plate. A paper towel was put over it to keep them warm and then she began to fry two more for Dudley.

"Don't you let anything burn," called Aunt Petunia from behind her book, "I want everything perfect for Dudley's special day!"

Lilly groaned. Aunt Petunia put her book down.

"What did you say?" she asked sharply.

"Nothing."

Lilly glanced at Harry. The look on his face showed that he'd forgotten about Dudley's birthday as well. He rolled his eyes at her as if to say, "_It's just one day, we can live through it._" Lilly gave him a wry smile and poured the orange juice into a big serving glass. As she went to set it on the table in the dining room she saw the presents in the living room. It seemed as though every piece of furniture had been thrown out and replaced by dozens of gaily colored presents. Dudley seemed to have gotten the new computer that he'd wanted, not to mention the second television and the racing bike. Exactly why Dudley wanted a racing bike was a mystery to the two Potters, Dudley was very fat and hated exercise–unless it involved punching somebody. Dudley's favorite punching bag was Harry, but he couldn't often catch him. Harry didn't look it, but he was very fast. Both of the Potters were, in fact, but Dudley and his gang didn't usually go after Lilly since she normally fought back (and because some of Dudley's friends still thought she was pretty).

Perhaps it had something to do with living in a dark cupboard, but both Harry and Lilly had always been small and skinny for their age. Harry looked even smaller and skinnier than he really was because all he had to wear were old clothes of Dudley's, and Dudley was about four times bigger than he was. Lily, on the other hand, was at the mercy of Angela Martin.

Mrs. Martin was best friends with Aunt Petunia and since Angela was eleven months older than Lilly, the younger girl received all sorts of hand-me-downs. The arrangement would have been great, and in the rare case of Angela picking out something good in the stores, it _was_ great. However, these cases were lost to the amount of horrible, slutty clothes that Angela favored. Lilly absolutely hated them and typically wore just the pieces from Angela Martin's winter wardrobe, that being the time when you had to cover up or freeze. Still, often, for lack of anything suitable, Lilly would borrow one of Dudley's old shirts from Harry, belt it around the middle, and try to make it into a tunic. (Most of these efforts, however, failed miserably.)

Despite the absence of good clothes, Lilly made up for it with her looks. She was very pretty and stronger than most girls. She had long, dark red hair and her eyebrows were low over her bright green eyes giving her a permanent determined expression.

Harry had a thin face, knobby knees, jet-black hair, and, also, green eyes. He wore round glasses held together with lots of Scotch tape because of all the times Dudley had punched him in the nose.

The Potter children would have looked like completely normal people, except for that they both had identical scars in the exact same spot on their foreheads. Both scars were very thin and shaped like bolts of lightening. They had both had them for as long as they could remember. The first question Harry remembered asking his Aunt Petunia was how they had gotten them.

"It was in the car crash when your parents dead," she had said.

"How are they both right here?" Lilly asked, rubbing her forehead with all the grace of a four year old.

"I don't know," Aunt Petunia snapped, "And don't ask questions!"

Don't ask questions –that was the first rule for a quiet life with the Dursleys.

Uncle Vernon entered the kitchen as Harry was turning over the bacon.

"Comb your hair!" He barked at Harry, by way of a morning greeting.

About once a week, Uncle Vernon looked over the top of his newspaper and shouted that Harry needed a haircut. Harry must have had more haircuts than the rest of the boys _and_ girls in his class put together, but it made no difference, his hair simply grew that way –all over the place.

Harry and Lilly were just setting the table as Dudley arrived in the kitchen. Dudley looked a lot like Uncle Vernon. He had a large pink face, not much neck, small, watery blue eyes, and thick blonde hair that lay smoothly on his thick fat head. Aunt Petunia often said that Dudley looked like a baby angel–Harry said to Lilly (in private, of course) that Dudley looked like a pig that had been taught to walk on it back legs.

Harry was pouring coffee into Uncle Vernon's cup and Lilly was just sitting down when Dudley, who had been counting all his presents in the living room, looked up with a big pout on his face.

"Thirty-six," he said, looking from his mother's face to his father's. "That's two less than last year."

"Darling, you haven't counted Auntie Marge's present, see, its here under this big one from Mummy and Daddy."

"All right, thirty-seven, then," said Dudley, going red in the face. Lilly, who could see a huge Dudley tantrum coming on, began wolfing down her bacon as fast as possible in case Dudley decided to turn the table over. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Harry guzzling down his orange juice.

Aunt Petunia obviously scented danger too, because she said quickly, "And we'll buy you another _two_ presents while we're out today. How's that sound, popkin? _Two_ more presents. Is that all right?"

Dudley thought for a moment. It looked like hard work. Finally he said slowly, "So I'll have thirty…thirty…"

"Thirty-nine, sweetums, one more than last year," said Aunt Petunia.

"Oh." Dudley sat down heavily on the sofa and grabbed the nearest parcel. "All right then."

Uncle Vernon chuckled.

"Little tyke wants his money's worth, just like his father. 'Atta boy Dudley!" He ruffled Dudley's hair.

"Dudders, do come eat this breakfast before it gets cold, Mummy made it just for you."

Harry's mouth dropped open, although why things like thins continued to surprise him, he didn't know.

Lilly, for her part, began to sneeze so as to have an excuse to mouth bad words into her elbow.

At that moment, the telephone rang and Aunt Petunia went to answer it. In her absence, Dudley bolted down his food and rushed into the living room to open more presents. Harry, Lilly, and Uncle Vernon watched as Dudley unwrapped a racing bike, a video camera, a remote control airplane, sixteen new computer games, and a VCR. He was ripping the paper off a gold wristwatch when Aunt Petunia came back from the telephone looking both angry and worried.

"Bad news, Vernon," she said. "Mrs. Figg's broken her leg. She can't take them." She jerked her head in Harry and Lilly's direction.

Dudley's mouth fell open in horror, but Harry's heart gave a great leap and Lilly began sneezing again. Harry was the only one who caught the wide grin that was hidden behind her elbow. Every year on Dudley's birthday, his parents took him and a friend out for the day, to adventure parks, hamburger restaurants, or the movies. Every year, Harry and Lilly were left behind with Mrs. Figg, a mad old lady who lived two streets away. The Potters hated it there. The whole house smelled of cabbage and Mrs. Figg made them look at photographs of all the cats she'd ever owned.

"Now what?" asked Aunt Petunia, looking furiously at Harry and Lilly as though they had planned this. Harry knew that he ought to feel sorry that Mrs. Figg had broken her leg, but it wasn't easy when he reminded himself that it would be a whole year before he had to look at Tibbles, Snowy, Mr. Paws, and Tufty again.

"We could phone Marge," Uncle Vernon suggested.

"Don't be silly, Vernon, she hates them."

This was how the Dursleys often spoke about Harry and Lilly, as though they weren't there–or rather, as though they were something very nasty that couldn't understand them, like a pair of slugs.

"What about what's-her-name, your friend–Yvonne?"

"Not the Martins!" Lily cried before she could stop herself.

"They're on vacation in Majorca," snapped Aunt Petunia, turning to Lilly she added, "and you'd be lucky to be with the Martins."

"You could just leave us here," Harry put in hopefully.

"Yeah!" Lilly agreed. (She knew they were both thinking the same thing, the second the Dursleys were gone they could have a Star Wars marathon on the television in Dudley's room.)

Aunt Petunia looked as though she had just swallowed a lemon.

"And come back and find the house in ruins?" she snarled.

"We wouldn't blow anything up!" Harry cried, but they weren't listening.

"I suppose we could take them to the zoo with us," said Aunt Petunia slowly, "…and leave them in the car…"

"That car's new; they're not sitting in it alone…"

Dudley began to cry loudly, In fact, he wasn't really crying –it had been years since he'd really cried –but he knew that if screwed his face up and wailed, his mother would give him anything he wanted.

"Dinky Duddydums, don't cry, Mummy won't let them spoil your special day!" she cried, flinging her arms around him.

"I…don't…want…them…t-t-to...come!" Dudley yelled between huge pretend sobs. "They…always…sp-spoil everything!" He shot Lilly a nasty grin through the gap in his mother's arms. Lilly began sneezing again but not before Harry saw her ears lie back against her head. (Her ears always moved when she was either trying very hard not to laugh or when she was trying very hard to not punch someone in the nose.) Unfortunately, Dudley saw the ears—in fact her entire hairline—and knew he had touched a nerve. He gave his cousin another rather nasty grin and began sobbing again.

Just then, the doorbell rang–"Oh heavens, they're here!" cried Aunt Petunia frantically–and a moment later, Dudley's best friend, Piers Polkiss, walked in with his mother. Piers was a scrawny boy who had a face like a rat. He was usually the one who held people's arms behind their backs while Dudley pounded them in the face. Dudley stopped pretending to cry at once.

"Hi Lilly," said Piers when he entered. Lilly didn't respond but only looked at Harry with a face of mock horror when the other two weren't looking. Piers was one of the ones with a slight crush on the Potter girl. Harry laughed.

Half and hour later, Harry and Lilly, who couldn't believe their luck, were sitting in the back of the Dursley's car with Piers and Dudley, on the way to the zoo for the first time in their lives. (Piers had tried to clamber in the back seat to sit beside Lilly but Harry beat him to it. Lilly mouthed a very large 'thank you' to him once they were on their way.) Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had been unable to think of anything else to do with the Potters, but before getting into the car to leave, Uncle Vernon had taken them aside.

"I'm warning the both of you," he said, putting his large purple face right up close to theirs "I'm warning the both of you now –any funny business, any at all, and you'll be in your cupboards from now until Christmas."

"We're not going to do anything," said Lilly.

"We never try to, honestly…"

But Uncle Vernon didn't believe them. No one ever did.

The problem was, strange things often did happen around Harry and Lilly and it was just no good telling the Dursleys that they didn't make them happen.

Once, Aunt Petunia, tired of Harry coming back from the barbers looking as though he hadn't gotten a haircut at all, had taken a pair of scissors and cut his hair so short so that he was almost bald except for his bangs, which she left "to hide that horrible scar." Dudley had laughed himself sick at Harry, who had spent a sleepless night imagining school the next day, where he was already laughed at for having baggy clothing and taped glasses. The next morning, however, he had gotten up to find his hair exactly the way it was before Aunt Petunia had sheared it off. He had been given a week in his cupboard for this, even though he had tried to explain that he _couldn't_ explain how it had grown back so quickly.

And once when they were very little, Lilly had seen some flowers that had died in their vase. She had tried to get some scissors and cut some more from the garden but Aunt Petunia made them all go to bed. The next morning not only were the flowers living, but now they were great, pink, stargazer lilies. The flowers were thrown out and Lilly received a two day sentence in her cupboard.

Another time, Aunt Petunia had been trying to force Harry into a revolting old sweater of Dudley's (brown with orange puff balls). The harder she tried to pull it over his head the smaller it seemed to become, until finally it might have fitted a hand puppet, but certainly wouldn't fit Harry. Aunt Petunia had decided it must have shrunk in the wash and, to his great relief, Harry wasn't punished.

On the other hand, Lilly had gotten a week in her cupboard after an episode at the park. She and Harry were jumping off the swings to see who could go father. Somehow, Lilly had flipped backwards in mid-air and landed on top of the swing set. Aunt Petunia had looked as though she was going to faint. Lilly however, stood up and began to walk across the top of swing set, like a tight rope walker at a circus, laughing. When Aunt Petunia finally came to her senses, she shouted for Lilly to come down and, still laughing, Lilly did a flip off the end. When Harry asked her about it later she said she hardly remembered it.

But today, nothing was going to go wrong. It was even worth being with Dudley and Piers to be spending the day somewhere that wasn't school, their cupboards, or Mrs. Figg's cabbage-smelling living room.

While he drove, Uncle Vernon complained to Aunt Petunia. He liked to complain about things: people at work, Harry, the council, Lilly, the bank, Harry, the next door neighbor's dog, and Lilly were just a few of his favorite subjects. This morning, however, it was motorcycles.

"…roaring along like maniacs, the young hoodlums," he said, as a motorcycle overtook them.

"I had a dream about a motorcycle," said Harry, remembering suddenly. "It was flying."

Uncle Vernon nearly crashed into the car in front of them. He turned around right around in his seat and yelled at Harry, his face like a gigantic beet with a mustache: "MOTORCYCLES DON'T FLY!"

Piers and Dudley sniggered.

"I know they don't," Harry sputtered, indignantly. "It was only a dream."

But he wished he hadn't said anything. If there was one thing the Dursleys hated even more than the Potters asking questions, it was them talking about anything acting in a way it shouldn't no matter if it was a dream or even a cartoon –they seemed to think that they might get dangerous ideas.

It was a very sunny Saturday and the zoo was crowded with families. The Dursleys bought Dudley and Piers large chocolate ice creams at the entrance and then, because the smiling lady in the van asked what Harry and Lilly wanted before they could be hurried away, they each got a cheap, lemon, ice pop. It doesn't taste bad, either, thought Lilly, licking it as they watched a gorilla scratching its head who looked remarkably like Dudley, except it wasn't blonde.

It was the best morning that either Harry or Lilly had had in a long time. Both were careful to walk apart from the Dursleys so that Dudley and Piers, who were starting to get bored with the animals by lunchtime, and wouldn't fall back on their favorite hobby of hitting Harry and making Lilly watch. (Dudley and his gang wouldn't ever hit Lilly because if she fought back then they'd have to explain that they'd gotten beaten up by a girl. If Harry, on the other hand, so much as touched Dudley, he would go bawling back to his parents on how Harry had pounded him into the ground even after he'd begged him to stop. Of course, none of Dudley's friends were smart enough to just get beaten up by Lilly and then blame it on her twin.)

They ate at the zoo and when Dudley threw tantrum because his knickerbocker glory didn't have enough ice cream on top, Uncle Vernon bought him another and Harry and Lilly got to split the rest.

Later, the Potters decided that they should have realized it was all too good to last.

After lunch, they went to the reptile house. It was cool and dark in there, with lit windows all along the walls. Behind the glass, all sorts of lizards were crawling and slithering over bits of stone. Dudley and Piers wanted to see huge, poisonous cobras and thick, man-crushing pythons. Dudley immediately found the largest snake in the place. It could have wrapped its body twice around Uncle Vernon's car and crushed it into trash can –but at the moment it didn't like it was in the mood to. In fact, it was asleep.

Dudley stood with his nose pressed against the glass, staring at the glistening brown coils. Harry and Lilly moved away to the Gila monster next door.

"Make it move," Dudley whined to his father. Uncle Vernon tapped on the glass, but the snake didn't budge.

"Do it again," Dudley ordered. Uncle Vernon rapped the glass smartly with his knuckles, but the snake just snoozed on.

He's boring," Dudley moaned. He shuffled away.

Harry jerked his head towards the snake's terrarium in a wordless question but Lilly shook him off, watching the Gila monster eat giant mealworms, transfixed. Harry shrugged and moved in front of the python's tank and looked intently at the snake. He wouldn't have been surprised if it had died of boredom itself–no company except stupid people drumming their fingers on the glass trying to disturb it all day long. It was worse that having a cupboard for a bedroom, where the only visitors were Aunt Petunia and Lilly; at least he got to visit the rest of the house.

The snake opened its beady eyes. Slowly, very slowly, it raised its head until its eyes were on level with Harry's.

_And it winked._

Harry stared, his mouth hanging open. Then he looked quickly around to see if anyone else was watching. They weren't.

"Lilly," Harry hissed, "Lilly come here!"

Lilly looked up from the Gila monster, who was now climbing up and down its log, her mouth open to argue but the look on Harry's face caught her attention and she shuffled over.

"What?"

"Look!"

Lilly glanced at the snake.

_And it winked at her, too._

"Whoa, did they teach you to do that?" Lilly asked the snake, before she caught herself.

The snake shook its head no.

Both Potters mouths dropped open.

"How do you do that?" Harry asked, he was trying keeping his voice low but his excitement was hard to hide.

The snake rolled its eyes as if to say:

_No idea._

The sound of Uncle Vernon banging on the glass of some other unfortunate creature interrupted the conversation, making Harry and Lilly jump.

"Sorry about him," Harry said, "Must be awful to have people looking at you all day, sticking their big ugly faces right up next to you."

The snake in an exasperated way, raising its eyes to the ceiling in a look that said plainly:

_I get that all the time._

"Yeah," Lilly muttered, with the air of someone who had conversations with snakes everyday, "It must get really annoying."

The snake nodded again.

"Do you talk to people often?" asked Harry.

The snake shook its head.

"What about the other snakes here?"

The snake shook its head again.

"Any other snakes from where you came from ever talk to people?" Harry asked, unable to drop the matter.

The snake jabbed its tail at a little sign next to the glass. Lilly, who was closest, read out loud.

"'Boa Constrictor'," Lilly read, "'Brazil.'"

"Was it nice there?" Harry asked.

The boa constrictor jabbed its tail at the sign again and Lilly squinted at the smaller letters below the snake's title.

"'This specimen was bred in the zoo.' Oh, I see," said Lilly turning back to the snake, "so you've never been to Brazil?"

As the snake shook its head, a deafening shout behind the two Potter twins made them both spin around. (The snake seemed unperturbed by loud noises any more.) "DUDLEY! MR. DURSLEY! COME AND LOOK AT THIS SNAKE! YOU WON'T _BELIEVE_ WHAT IT'S DOING!"

Dudley came waddling toward them as fast as he could.

"Out of the way, you two," he said, pushing Lilly aside while Piers shoved Harry the other way. Caught by surprise, Lilly fell hard on the concrete floor. Harry slammed into the wall next to the boa constrictor's tank, earning a bloody nose. What happened next came so fast, no one saw how it happened –one instant, Piers and Dudley were leaning up close to the glass with their noses pressed against it, the next, they had leapt back with howls of horror.

Lilly sat up and gasped; the glass front of the boa constrictor's tank had vanished. The great snake was uncoiling itself rapidly, slithering out onto the floor. People throughout the reptile house screamed and started running for the exits. Harry looked down and his eyes locked with Lilly. Her face was a mixture of wild amusement and horror.

As the snake slid swiftly past her, Lilly could have sworn she heard a low, hissing voice say, "Thankssss, amigo…Brazil, here I come."

The keeper of the reptile house was in shock.

"But the glass" he kept saying, "where did the glass go?"

The zoo director himself made Aunt Petunia a cup of strong, sweet tea while he apologized over and over again. Piers and Dudley could only gibber. As far as Harry had seen, the snake hadn't done anything to them except snap at their heels playfully as it passed, but by the time they were back in Uncle Vernon's car, Dudley was swearing that it had tried to bite his leg off, while Piers was telling them how it had tried to squeeze him to death. But worst of all, was when Piers calmed down enough to say, "Lilly, you were talking to it, weren't you?"

Uncle Vernon waited until Piers was safely out of the house before starting on Lilly. He was so angry he could hardly speak. He managed to say, "Go–cupboards–stay–no meals," before collapsing into an armchair and Aunt Petunia had to run and get him a large brandy.

"Wait," Harry cried, trying to equal out the punishment so Lilly wou;dn't get it so bad, "I was also talk…"

"BOTH OF YOU IN YOUR CUPBOARDS NOW!" Uncle Vernon hollered.

* * *

Lilly lay in hercupboard later. It had been a few hours since he'd heard the Dursleys leave the dinner table upstairs to go to bed and they should have fallen asleep by now. So it was just a matter of time befor-

_Thump_.

She picked her head up and listened for the noise again.

_Thump. Thump thump. _

Lilly stood up slowly on the cot until her fingertips brushed the sloped ceiling of her cupboard. She reached her arms back and found the cover of the vent. Quickly, with the practiced motions of a pro, Lilly undid the screws and the vent swung open, revealing the dark hole leading into the house's the duct work.

_Thump thump thump thump._

A head appeared at the hole in the ceiling.

"D'you want some company?" Asked Harry.

Lilly grinned.

"Yeah, come on in!"

The head disappeared and more thumps were heard as he crawled forward until he could get his feet through. Harry's legs came down first, then chest, then arms. He dropped silently onto Lilly's pillow and folded himself up, legs crossed. Lilly settled herself across from him, folding her legs as well.

Harry had figured out how to navigate the vents when he was five. Whenever he or Lilly were locked in their cupboard, Harry made the journey from one to the other. The only thing the Dursleys ever suspected was Uncle Vernon complaining about mice, otherwise, Harry had gone completely undetected. Lilly would have made the trip but Harry's shoulders were even narrower than his sister's and Lilly had a bad case of claustrophobia.

They'd lived with the Dursley for almost ten years, ten miserable years, as long as they could remember, ever since that night their parents had died in a car crash when they were babies. Sometimes, in the long hours after the Dursleys had gone to bed and the two of them were sitting down in Lilly's cupboard, talking, they'd each strain their memories to try and recall the car crash. Harry would usually come up with a strange vision: a blinding flash of green light and a burning pain in his forehead. Lilly could remember the same thing except that she recalled two horrible red eyes. They'd decided that pain and the light were from the crash and Lilly had imagined the eyes in to it. Neither of them could remember their parents. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia never spoke about them, and of course, they were forbidden to ask questions. There were no photographs of them in the house.

When they had been younger, Harry and Lilly had fantasized to each other over some unknown relation swooping in like a superhero to whisk them away, but it had never happened; the Dursleys were the only family they had left. Yet sometimes, when out in public, Harry and Lilly Potter thought, (or at least desperately hoped) that strangers in the street seemed to know them. Very strange strangers they were, too.

A tiny little man in a violet top hat had once bowed to them when they were out shopping with Aunt Petunia and Dudley. After furiously interrogating first Harry then Lilly whether or not they knew the man, Aunt Petunia had rushed them out of the shop without buying anything.

A wild-looking old woman dressed all in green had waved merrily to them on the bus last year and then blushed a blotchy red when Lilly waved back.

A bald man in a very long purple coat had come right up and shaken Harry's hand when he was walking home from the park and then just walked away without a word.

And once, when Lilly was coming home from a quick errand down the road, a little boy seemed to recognize her, picked a flower, handed it to her, and ran back, red-faced, to his mother. The weirdest thing about these people was that the second Harry or Lilly tried to get a closer look, they seemed to vanish.

At school, the Potters only had each other. Both of them were agreeable and should have had no trouble making friends except that everyone knew how Dudley's gang hated those odd Potter kids in the weird clothes (and especially that one with the broken glasses). And of course, nobody liked to disagree with Dudley and his gang.


	3. The Applewood Affair

Chapter Three: The Applewood Affair

The escape of the boa constrictor earned the Potter twins their longest-ever punishment. By the time they were allowed out of the cupboards again, the summer holidays had already started and Dudley had already broken his new video camera, crashed his remote control airplane, and, first time out on his racing bike, knocked down old Mrs. Figg as she crossed Privet Drive on her crutches.

Harry and Lilly were glad school was over, but this meant that there was now no escaping Dudley's gang, who visited the house every day. Piers, Dennis, Malcolm, Carl, Rupert, and Gordon were all big and stupid but Dudley was the biggest and stupidest of the lot, so he was the leader. The rest of them were all quite happy to join in Dudley's favorite sport: Harry Hunting.

It was why Harry and Lilly spent as much time as possible out of the house, wandering around. Lilly could have stayed indoors, out of the oppressive heat, but she preferred being with Harry. Most of time, they were at the playground, or climbing the neighborhood trees in order to get faster at it (Dudley's gang couldn't climb trees to save their lives). When they had to be at the house, however, Lilly was normally cleaning and Harry was excused to run from Dudley's gang.

The Potters often talked about the end of summer. This year, the coming of September held knew meaning. They would be going to secondary school and for the first time ever, would not be with Dudley. Dudley had been accepted to Uncle Vernon's old private school, Smeltings. Piers Polkiss and Rupert Grint were both going as well. Harry on the other hand was going to Stonewall High, the local public school. Dudley thought it was very funny.

"They stuff people's heads down the toilet the first day at Stonewall," he told Harry. "Want to come upstairs and practice?"

"No thanks," said Harry. "The poor toilet's never had anything as disgusting as your head flushed down it—it might be sick." Then he ran away before Dudley could figure out what he said.

Lilly thought it all was uproariously funny when he told her about it later.

"I'm sure that it'll be fine, though," she said, referring to the head/toilet situation, "we'll make a ton of friends, maybe we won't even have to hang around each other anymore!"

"Amen," said Harry before quickly sobering,

"Lilly," he said "you aren't going to Stonewall, you're going to Applewood."

Applewood was the fine arts school that Lilly had been accepted to. She had a full scholarship. Uncle Vernon had been adamant that she would _not_ go until her heard that the school was willing to pay for board and food as well. And thus the internal struggle began. He could send her off to school and not see (or pay for) her again until summer started but at the same time, give her the chance of a life time. Despite discouraging the girl every time they could, the Dursleys knew that Lilly was an extremely gifted singer and actor.

She had been in every school play since their music teacher had insisted she try out for Marta in _The Sound of Music_. Their elementary school collaborated with the other public schools in the area and bussed the actors to Irongate High after class hours so that kids from all the different grades to put the play on together. After Marta, Lilly was Jane in _Mary Poppins_, then Amaryllis from _The Music Man, _and finally Annie in _Annie. _Applewood apparently had been watching her since _Mary Poppins_ and when she finally got the lead as a ten year old, the deal was signed. Applewood was practically begging to have Lily Potter at their school but she insisted she "wasn't ready". Harry knew she just wanted to stay with him but he couldn't let her pass this up.

"Lilly," he said for what felt like the fourteen-thousandth time, "you _have_ to go to Applewood. You could be on Broadway in seven years, maybe less!"

"I'm not ready yet…"

"_BS,_ Lilly! You are too!"

"Don't be such a pansy, go ahead and cuss—_bull shit_!" (Lily had a nasty, (but wonderful in her own opinion) habit of swearing constantly. By comparison, her twin was a bit more conservative in his words.)

"You said yourself you want to go to Broadway and be famous—"

"No, I want to be a waitress, go on _Britain's Got Talent_ with my sad story of being orphaned and abused as a child, win, and _then_ go to Broadway with that on my resume."

Harry shook his head. Why did she have to be so frustrating?

"And you know that without me, you'll never make any friends at Stonewall." shie finished, smiling.

"_That's_ bull shit," he muttered.

~x~X~x~

One day in July, Aunt Petunia took Dudley to London to buy his Smeltings uniforms, leaving Harry and Lilly at Mrs. Figg's. Mrs. Figg was as bad as usual. It turned out she'd broken her leg tripping over one of her cats and didn't seem quite as fond of them as before. She let the Potters have the run of the television, (Lilly found the DVD's and made them all watch _The Matrix_ until Mrs. Figg decided that something more like _Dumbo_ was appropriate for children. Lilly didn't mind since she loved "both ends of the spectrum" as she put it: the cheesy and the epic and nothing in between. Harry however, would have been perfectly happy with _The Goonies_, the first _approved_ choice, and sat through both movies with his arms crossed not looking at his sister). Mrs. Figg offered them some chocolate cake that Harry politely refused but Lilly heartily accepted only to find out that it tasted like Mrs. Figg had had it for a few years. (Harry felt considerably better about the movie thing.)

That evening, Dudley paraded around the living room for the family in his brand-new uniform. Smeltings' boys wore maroon tailcoats, dark orange knickerbockers, and flat straw hats called boaters. They also carried knobbly sticks used for hitting each other while the teachers weren't looking. It was supposed to be good training for later life.

As he looked at Dudley in his new knickerbockers, Uncle Vernon proclaimed loudly that this was the finest moment of his life. Aunt Petunia burst into tears at the sight of her handsome, grown-up "Ickle Bitty Dinkydiddums". Harry didn't trust himseld to speak. He thought two of his ribs might already have cracked from trying not to laugh. Lilly was sent upstairs so that "that terrible sneeze wouldn't ruin the moment." She tripped on the stairs going up and blamed it on not be able to see through the tears in her eyes.

**A/N: I'm going to start breaking up JK Rowlings chapters into shorter chapters so from now on the chapters will be more or less this length. 10 pts. to you if you recognized Dudley's friend.**


	4. Letters From No One

Chapter Four: The Letters from No One

There was a horrible smell in the kitchen the next morning when Lilly climbed the steps from the laundry and upstairs for breakfast. It seemed to be coming from the large metal tub in the sink. She went over to have a look and cringed at the sight. The tub was full of what looked like dirty rags swimming in gray water.

"What's this?" she asked Harry who was already making breakfast. He looked up nervously and regarded her with an expression as though he was choosing his words carefully in case she might explode at the wrong ones. However, Harry's attempt at caution was in vain because Aunt Petunia decided to answer for him.

"They're Harry's new school uniform."

"Where's mine?" Lilly asked, a feeling a dread already rising inside her.

"_Applewood_ is going to cover the cost of…"

"_I'm not going to Applewood!_" Lilly shouted, even though she already knew it was pointless.

"Yes you are young lady and that's the end of it! Your uncle sent in your application two weeks ago and you've been cleared!"

"What application? I didn't sign anything!"

Aunt Petunia pressed her lips together.

"It's not like they know what your signature looks like…"

"_You forged my name!_" Lilly screamed, shocked. It was one thing for them to kick her out of the house as an ten year old. It was another for them to risk getting in trouble in order to do so.

"Don't you use that tone with me!" Aunt Petunia yelled back, "You should be grateful that we're going to the trouble of…"

"Trouble? You're only doing this because a) I don't want to go and b) you don't want to pay for me!"

"You think we wanted you? You think we've enjoyed taking care of you two ungrateful children? We've given you a roof, clothes, food…"

"You've hardly given either of us _any_ of those things!" Lilly shouted and then turned to her brother, "Harry, back me up!" Harry's eyes widened and he looked from his aunt to his sister. He argued with his foster parents all the time but not in the way Lilly did. She bottled her anger up and let out in one big gush about once every two weeks. You could almost set a clock to it. But never once did she cry. Ever. It was her biggest policy. "Crying's for sissies and wusses," she would say.

"Harry!" she insisted.

"I—I...um..." Harry started, not wanting to be on either female's bad side. He was, fortunately, saved by the entrance of Dudley and Uncle Vernon.

"Here, here," said Uncle Vernon gruffly, sitting down at the table, "what's all this yelling about?"

"You forged my name on the Applewood papers!" Lilly asked, rounding to start on her uncle. Dudley turned around in his seat to watch. When Lilly really got mad it was even better than television.

"Now listen here, young lady," Uncle Vernon started, pointing a threatening finger at his niece, "You will get a fine education at Applewood. They'll teach you all the basics along with whatever artsy stuff it is they do. It's certainly not a classic education that _I_ would _choose_ but they're paying for it so you had better enjoy it. I've even been assured that you'll be considered for the main part in _A Little Princess_."

That brought Lilly up short. They were already considering her for a part? And especially one from one of her favorite stories…?

"_A Little Princess_ doesn't have a play adaptation." she said, although she didn't know why Uncle Vernon would lie about that.

"Oh ho," said Uncle Vernon sarcastically, "look who knows so much. One of their former students wrote it and the school got first crack at putting it on. It's going to be a musical and I want you to go out for the part. Maybe we can see a little pay-off on you after all."

"So what," Lilly snorted, "I'm just a little investment of yours?"

"Lilly!" snapped Aunt Petunia, "if I have to tell you to watch your tongue again…!"

"It doesn't matter!" Lilly shouted, "Because I'm not going! I'll just write them and tell them there's been a mix up...Maybe I can sign _your_ name at the bottom of it so they'll believe me!"

"You'll do no such thing!" said Aunt Petunia, "and if you don't turn yourself around and start on breakfast you'll be sent to your cupboard until the term starts with no meals." Lilly didn't really believe that they wouldn't feed her the whole time, but Aunt Petunia could probably go a week or two without her conscience nagging at her. And besides, Lilly knew she was fighting a loosing battle. With all the dignity she could muster she muttered, "Fine!" and starting making pancakes for the three, big, fat, stupid, mean, no-good, lying, forging, cheating Durlseys with their oh-so-self-righteous ideas…

Harry knew not to get in his sister's way. She would be angry at him, he knew, for not sticking up for her and decided that, yeah, he was glad she was going to the right school, despite whether or not she admitted it. But deep down in the selfish part of him, Harry was a little ticked that they wouldn't be together because, in truth, he was terrified of Stonewall. He'd seen his uniform that morning and knew he'd be the only kid who would look like he was wearing bits of old elephant skin. Aunt Petunia had promised he'd look like everybody else when she finished dyeing Dudley's old clothes gray but he highly doubted that.

The click of the mail slot startled both Potters out of their thoughts, Lilly from her increasingly offensive insults to the Dursleys and Harry from his thoughts on Stonewall.

"Get the mail Dudley." Uncle Vernon said from behind his paper.

"Make Lilly get it."

"Get the mail Lilly." Lilly was already in a mood and she decided she was going to fight them on everything this morning.

"Make Dudley get it," she whined.

"Poke her with your Smelting stick, Dudley." Lilly dodged the stick and (purposefully) spilled the bacon grease all over the floor.

"Look what you made me do!" she cried and flung herself to the floor to (purposefully) smear it all over the tiles.

"Oh for heaven's sake," Harry muttered, "_I'll_ get the mail."

"No, I will!" The two Potters made their way into the hallway despite Harry sighing, "Lilly _please_ don't start being difficult," and Lilly pushing him twice into the wall for not backing her up in her fight with Aunt Petunia. They arrived more_-_or-less at the same time at the door, Harry rubbing his hip where he'd been shoved into the drywall and Lilly still sulking.

Harry dove for the mail and grabbed two of the five articles before Lilly could. One was a postcard from Uncle Vernon's sister, Marge, who was vacationing in the Isle of Wight, and the other was a brown envelope that looked suspiciously like a bill.

Lilly retrieved the remaining three: a magazine for Dudley all about sports cars (the cobalt blue Aston Martin on the cover was Lilly's dream car) and two letters: one for her and one for Harry…_one for her and one for Harry?_

"Harry!" she squealed, the episode of the morning forgotten, "_look!_"

Harry glanced at the magazine.

"Despite what you think," he said, exhausted, "no one is going to give you an Aston Mart—"

"Not the magazine—_look_!" She shoved his letter in his face and, in his shock, the postcard and envelope tumbled out of Harry's fingers.

No one had ever written to either of the Potters, ever. They didn't have any friends or other relatives—Aunt Petunia didn't let them go to the public library because she knew they'd get the fiction books which could possibly "give them nasty ideas about the way the world works," so there were never the rude notes about returning said "nasty books". Yet there they were, two letters addressed so plainly there could be no mistake.

_Mr. H. Potter  
__The Cupboard off the Front Entrance  
__4 Privet Drive  
__Little Whinging  
__Surrey_

and

_Ms. L. Potter  
__The Cupboard off the Laundry Room  
__4 Privet Drive  
__Little Whinging  
__Surrey_

Both envelopes were thick and heavy, made of yellowish parchment, and the addresses were written in emerald-green ink. There were no stamps.

Lilly flipped her letter over, her hand trembling, and saw a purple wax seal bearing a coat of arms; a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake surrounding a large letter _H_.

"Get back in here, you two," came Aunt Petunia's shrill voice, "Lilly, there is bacon grease all over the floor!"

Harry started to make his way towards the door but Lilly grabbed his arm and hissed,

"Don't show them!"

"What?"

"Don't show 'em the letters! They'll take 'em away!"

"You're being ridiculous!"

Harry walked back into the room the letter clearly displayed for all the world to see in his hands, and Lilly, for lack of a better place, tucked the letter in the back of her shorts, smoothed her shirt over it, and hoped nobody would notice. She entered behind her brother and watched as he handed the bill, the magazine, and the postcard to their uncle before sitting down and beginning to open his own yellow envelope.

Uncle Vernon ripped open the bill, snorted in disgust, and flipped over the postcard.

"Marge's ill," he informed Aunt Petunia, "Ate a funny whelk…"

"Dad!" said Dudley suddenly, "Dad, Harry's got something!"

Harry was on the point of unfolding the letter, which was written in the same heavy parchment when Uncle Vernon snatched it out of his hands

"That's _mine!_" said Harry, trying to snatch it back.

"Who'd be writing to _you_?" sneered Uncle Vernon, shaking the letter open with one hand and glancing at it. His face went from red to green faster than a set of traffic lights. And it didn't stop there. Within seconds, he was decidedly the color of old porridge.

"P-P-Petunia!" he gasped.

Dudley tried to grab the letter to read it, but Uncle Vernon held it high out of reach. Aunt Petunia took it curiously and read the first line. For a moment it looked as though she might faint. She clutched at her throat and made a choking noise.

"Vernon! Oh my goodness—_Vernon_!"

They stared at each other, seeming to have forgotten the children in the room. Dudley, for one, wasn't used to being ignored. He gave his father as sharp rap on the head with his Smelting stick.

"I want to read that letter," he proclaimed loudly.

"_I_ want to read it," said Harry furiously, "as its _mine!_"

Lilly impulsively smoothed the back of her shirt down again and froze when she made the parchment crackle. Luckily, no one was paying her any attention.

"Get out, both of you," croaked Uncle Vernon indicating Harry and Dudley, "not you!" he cried when he saw Lilly going to the door.

"I WANT MY LETTER!" Harry bellowed, refusing to move.

"Let _me_ see it!" demanded Dudley.

"OUT!" roared Uncle Vernon and he took Harry and Dudley out by the scruffs of their necks and threw them into the hall, slamming the kitchen door behind them. Harry and Dudley promptly had a furious but silent fight over who got to listen at the keyhole; Dudley won, so Harry, glasses dangling from one ear and yet again in need of tape's assistance, lay flat on his stomach to listen at the crack between the door and the floor.

"She'll just tell me whatever happens," he hissed at Dudley, resulting in getting a short but hard kick in the side of the head.

Lilly was in a room, alone, with two angry adults. It was not an unfamiliar situation, but she still didn't like it.

"So..." said Uncle Vernon as he stuffed Harry's letter back in to its envelope, "...So..."

He looked to Aunt Petunia as if to say, '_well I just got you that far—now you take over._'

"I suppose you got one of those too?" Aunt Petunia said pointing to the letter like it was something disgusting.

Lilly shook her head, curiosity and a little fear painted on her face—she was very glad she was a good actress.

"Don't lie," snarled Aunt Petunia, "you've always been a little oddball just like your brother."

"No," Lilly said, understandably curious, "what's the big deal about the letter?" Yes she was _very_ glad she was a good actress.

The Dursleys exchanged a glance. Maybe there was only _one_ in the house…? Aunt Petunia shook her head.

"Come here," she said.

Lilly did as she was told.

"Turn your pockets out," said Aunt Petunia.

Lilly did as she was told.

"Shake your shirt out."

Lilly did as she was told.

"Turn around."

Lilly did as she was told and squeezed her eyes shut, knowing she was about to be in trouble. Aunt Petunia made one swipe across Lilly's back and felt the paper crackle.

"Aha!" she cried as she yanked the paper out of Lilly's shorts, "Thought you could get away with _this_, did you!" She held the letter high in the air and let out an extremely un-Aunt-Petunia-ish crow.

"It's just a letter!" Lilly cried, getting angry, "why can't we read _our_ letters!"

"Just…" Aunt Petunia said, "…Get out!" She pointed to the door and with one last look back at the letters, Lilly stomped out into the hallway.

Harry and Dudley heard the whole thing and just in time, Harry scrambled back as Lilly opened the door. Dudley grinned at her.

"I'll bet they let me read it," he said, smirking.

"Shut up Dudley!" Lilly snapped, only making him smile wider.

"Shut up both of you!" Harry hissed from the ground, "I can't hear!"

Lilly joined him at the point on the ground and Dudley resumed his position at the keyhole.

"Vernon," said Aunt Petunia in a quivering voice, "look at the addresses—how could they possibly know where they sleep? You don't think they could be watching the house, do you?"

"Watching—spying—might even be following us," muttered Uncle Vernon in a conspiratorial tone.

"But what should we do, Vernon? Should we write back? Tell them we don't want…"

Harry and Lilly could see Uncle Vernon's socked feet padding up and down the kitchen floor.

"No," he said finally, "No, we'll ignore it. If they don't get an answer…Yes, that's best…we won't do anything…"

"But—"

"I will not have one in the house Petunia, much less _two_! Didn't we swear when we took them in that we'd stamp out that dangerous nonsense?"

"What dangerous nonsense?" Dudley whispered to the two on the floor in a much-too-loud whisper.

There was the sound of chair legs scooting back quickly and a gasp and the door flung open.

"DUDLEY!" roared Uncle Vernon, "HARRY…LILLY! CUPBOARDS…ROOMS…_NOW_!" He was so mad that he didn't even notice Harry and Lilly disappearing into Harry's cupboard to talk.

**A/N: Alright so I'm trying to fit more of Lilly into the plot line and differ this from JK's story. Please tell me how I'm doing! I've had Lilly on my mind for over two years now and I want to know if you like her! Please Review!**


	5. The Little Bedroom From Hell

Chpater Five: The Little Bedroom From Hell

That evening when he got back from work, Uncle Vernon did something he's never done before; he called the twins up to his office to have a "chat".

"Where're our letters?" Lilly demanded the moment she'd sat down across from her uncle at the desk. The room was small and was the carbon copy of Uncle Vernon's office at Grunnings. There were bookcases in the two back corners with identical pots of fake ivy draping over the tops of the shelves. The desk was in the center of the room, and the window was to Vernon Dursley's back so that the light illuminated him importantly whenever he invited someone in. It was late when the Potters arrived and no one bothered to turn the lights on, so the twins were speaking mostly to the eerie silhouette of their uncle.

"Who's writing us?" Harry asked a bit more gently. ('You catch more flies with honey than vinegar,' he had once told her to get on her nerves. Of course Lilly had rebuttaled that once and for all with, 'You catch the most with a dead opossum,' and that was the end of the matter.)

"No one," replied the dark shape of Uncle Vernon, "they were addressed to you by mistake; I have burned them.

"What?" Harry cried as his sister shouted,

"It was _not_ a mistake; it had our cupboards on them!"

"SILENCE!" yelled Uncle Vernon. He took a deep breath and forced his face into a smile, which looked quite painful.

"Well…yes, about the cupboards. Your aunt and I were talking…you're getting a bit big for them and well Petunia really does want her laundry closet back…we think it would be nice if you moved into Dudley's second bedroom.

"Why?" said Harry, suspiciously and Lilly said coldly,

"I prefer privacy…No offense Harry," she added quickly.

"We'll put up a divider between the beds," said Uncle Vernon, hoping that was the only argument she would come up with, "they're already two in there for when Dudders has his friends over…yes, well, see, won't that be nice?" He made himself smile again and clapped his hands before Lilly could say anything.

"Now, I don't want to hear anymore about it," he said briskly, "Go get your things and take them to Dudley's room, _now_." The edge in his voice was enough to make even Lilly follow instructions.

The Dursleys had four bedrooms: one for Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, one for visitors (usually where Uncle Vernon's sister, Marge), one for Dudley, and one meant for all of Dudley's "friends". In practice it was, however, "the little bedroom from hell," as Lilly so affectionately put it. The twins had worked to clean it at first but after Aunt Petunia realized how much time it took them, she'd locked the door and just let it go. This was where all of Dudley's broken toys went and the amount had, quite understandably, accumulated over the years.

It took Harry one trip to bring all his things upstairs from the cupboard to this new room. He sat down on the bed and wondered where Lilly was. As he waited, Harry began to look around at the things filling the majority of his new bedroom. Nearly everything here was broken. A broken radio was on the desk that was nearly invisible beneath the stuffed animals that Dudley had thrown in because he was "much too old"; the month-old video camera was lying on the small, working tank Dudley had once driven over the neighbor's dog; in the corner was Dudley's first-ever television set, which he'd put his foot through when his favorite program had been cancelled; large, awkward prizes that Uncle Vernon had won for his son at the fair were piled in front of the door to the bathroom; there was the large birdcage, which had once held a parrot that Dudley had swapped at school for a real air rifle, which lay on the shelf with the end all bent because Dudley had sat on it. Other shelves were full of books. They were the only things in the room that looked as though they'd never been touched.

Harry walked over and flipped through one. '_One Hundred and One Dalmatians'_ was the title, 'by Dodie Smith'.

_The Complete Lord of the Rings_ _Trilogy_, said one large case, which Harry guessed still had all three books in it.

_Winnie the Pooh...Paddington Bear...The Peanuts Collection_…_The Chronicles of Narnia_…_Alice in Wonderland…The Phantom Tollbooth...Where the Sidewalk Ends..._one shelf was completely dominated by Roald Dahl books; Harry recognized the drawing style from when they'd read _The BFG_ several years ago for school.

Harry sighed. Lilly would like these. She read fiction books whenever she could, but anything mandatory for school was shunned, whether or not it was good. Her grades would have been terrible if Harry didn't help her. She knew all the material but didn't do the work to prove it. Eventually, Harry had just started asking her the questions and writing down the answers she gave for both of their pages. That way they both learned.

_Speaking of Lilly_, he thought, _where is she?_

Lilly was standing in the doorway to her cupboard with her hands on her hips. She had her clothes ready to move up with her, (or at least the ones she'd deemed wearable from Angela Martin's selection,) and was debating on something. Whether or not to bitch about this.

She could very easily have taken up issue with moving to the new room and not let the matter rest for days. She could spill things…start arguments…disappear between meals…get "hurt" and carry on about it for hours—(there were sometimes it was useful to be related to Dudley)—she could make life hell for the Dursleys pretty easily.

Of course they could make life even harder for her. No meals…no breaks from work…solitary confinement. The first thing they'd do was make her stay in the cupboard and she really _did_ want to move up to the room—even if she _was_ sharing it with her brother. The real issue was the letters. If she went on strike hard enough would they let her read it? What could possibly be so special in those letters?

From upstairs came the sound of Dudley bawling at his mother,

"I d-don't want them in there…I n-need that room…make them get o-ou-_out_!"

Lilly made up her mind. Anything that got Dudley _that_ upset might as well be worth it. She sighed and dragged her stuff out of the basement, up the stairs to the kitchen, through the hall, and upwards to the second floor. She caught a glimpse of Dudley lying on the carpet, beating his fists against the floor, sobbing; with his mother hunched over him, her back to Lilly. The girl paused to watch because, you had to be honest, this was comedy at its best.

Dudley caught sight of her in mid-tantrum-scream. She grinned evilly and saluted him with a casual flick of her hand. Dudley began to stutter angrily again, probably trying to tell Lilly off to Aunt Petunia, but Lilly was already upstairs and in her new bedroom.

"D'you hear that?" she asked Harry, grinning, when she got in.

"Uh-huh." muttered Harry, who was lying on the far-side bed. Lilly took in the disaster she had just walked in to, the little, "bedroom from hell".

"This place is a real mess," she said matter-of-factly.

"Uh-huh."

"You think they'll let us throw this crap out?"

"If they do, we'll probably have to drag it up to the attic ourselves."

Lilly shrugged, pushed the stuff on the second bed onto the floor, and flopped on top of it.

"You think we can find anything good under all this junk?"

"Nah, I already looked. It's mostly broken anyway. Only thing in good condition's over there on the bookshelves."

Lilly looked to her left and found herself staring at some shelves.

"You should like those," Harry's muffled voice said.

She glanced over at him and saw that he'd flung a pillow over his face.

"What's wrong with you?"

Harry peeked out from beneath the pillow and said in a bleary, dejected voice,

"I'd rather be down there with my letter than up here without it."

He buried his face back in the pillow. Lilly thought about it and decided that, yeah, she agreed, despite what she was trying to fool herself into thinking.

She would give _anything_ for one of those letters.

"Yeah," she said as she got up to turn out the light, "me too."

Harry's snore was her only response.


	6. Bread and Jelly for Breakfast

Chapter Six: Bread and Jelly for Breakfast

Harry woke up before his sister the next morning and sat on the edge of his bed for a moment. The bed was _much_ more comfortable than the thin cot he'd had in the cupboard but he still hadn't slept well that night. He looked over at Lilly who was sprawled out on her bed as though she'd fallen out of a tree. Harry shook his head. Obviously Lilly was sleeping fine. He decided not to wake her up and just get started on breakfast. It was a normal day so chopped fruit and bagels would do. He was already mentally cataloging which fruits were at his disposal when he froze at the door to kitchen.

Uncle Vernon was busy at the counter, spreading jam on toast for five different plates. Harry's jaw dropped. He had never seen Uncle Vernon working in the kitchen in his entire life. He stood there frozen at the door until Uncle Vernon turned around with two plates in his hand.

"Oh there you are," he said in what might have passed for a jovial voice if it weren't for the painful smile on his face.

"Just take your seat there," said Uncle Vernon motioning to the breakfast table, "I've got this."

"You're _cooking_?" Harry gasped without moving.

"'Course I am, what's it look like?" Uncle Vernon snapped before catching himself and plastering the smile on his face again.

"So just, um, go sit." he said as he placed the plates on the table and went back for more.

Harry, still dumbfounded, went to his seat as though in a daze. He glanced down at his plate and realized that Uncle Vernon hadn't actually done any cooking and that it was just a piece of plain bread-with-jelly on his plate. But still, what time had the aliens come and abducted his uncle last night?

Harry noticed that everyone else was rather quiet. Dudley seemed to be in shock. He'd screamed, whacked his father with his Smelting stick, been sick on purpose, kicked his mother, and thrown his tortoise through the greenhouse roof, and he still didn't have his room back. Harry was thinking about this time yesterday and wishing bitterly that he had listened to Lilly and opened the envelope there in the hall. He knew that it was his fault that Lilly's letter had also been taken and he could only hope that she hadn't figured this out as well. Otherwise…Harry shuddered.

It was never wise to get on that girl's bad side.

Lilly woke up and blinked a couple times at the ceiling. She was not in her cupboard.

She sat up and looked around. She was in Dudley's bedroom.

No, no, that sounded disgusting; she was in Dudley's _second_ bedroom and Dudley was not. There, that was a little better.

It took her moment, but she remembered the events of the previous day and nodded. This was her new room, the one she would be sharing with Harry. She took a good look around at it. The door was in the center of the wall and it looked directly across to the window where the desk was nestled beneath it. To the right and left of the door were two bookcases. A dresser was in the back right corner and between it and the bookcase was the door to the bathroom. To the left were the two twin beds, one wedged up in the corner so that the foot was against the desk's side and the other against the bookcases. A path between the two beds led to the closet. All in all, it was a tight fit, made worse by the tons and tons of stuff that had accumulated over the years.

Lilly shook her head. That would be their project for the next few days, to get this crap out of the bedroom and up to the attic whenever they had a break. That decision made, Lilly swept out of the room, down the hall, and stumbled twice down the stairs.

She made her way into the kitchen and stopped when she realized that breakfast was already well underway. She made her way uncertainly over to her seat and stared at the food on her plate. Bread-and-jelly? Harry had made _bread-and-jelly_ and nobody was mad at him? She opened her mouth to comment when Aunt Petunia, sensing danger, said,

"My, my Vernon, but what a _lovely_ breakfast it is you've made us!"

She glared at her niece to warn her but Lilly's jaw dropped anyway and she stared at Harry who just shrugged and choked down another bite.

"Yes, yes Petunia," said Uncle Vernon, who did not seem to notice the exchange between his wife and the Potters, "how did you think I got on before I married you?" He smiled at her coquettishly and Lilly lost any appetite she had had for the food.

She was trying to think of some excuse to not eat it when the mail arrived. Out of habit, she began to get up and go for it but Uncle Vernon said hurriedly,

"Dudders, why not bring us the mail this morning?"

"But I—"

"Get—the—mail—Dudley." Uncle Vernon said through clenched teeth.

Dudley, a look of shock and denial on his face, mad his exit to get the mail. They could hear him banging things with the Smelting stick all the way down the hall. Then he shouted,

"There're two more! 'Mr. H. Potter, The Smallest Bedroom, 4 Privet Drive' 'Ms. L. Potter—"

With a strangled cry, Uncle Vernon leapt from his seat and ran down the hall, Harry right behind. Lilly shot up from her seat to follow them but banged her knee on the table and had to limp the whole way. Uncle Vernon wrestled Dudley to the ground to get the letters from him, which was made difficult by Harry grabbing him around the neck from behind. A moment later, Lilly had tackled him in the back of knees and everyone went down in a heap.

After a moment of confused fighting in which everyone got hit a lot by the Smelting stick, Uncle Vernon straightened up, gasping for breath, with both letters clutched securely in his hand.

"Go to you cupboards—I mean your bedroom," he wheezed at Harry and Lilly, "Go—just go."

The Potters scrambled upstairs to their bedroom and Lilly took the extra measure to slam the door as hard and indignantly as she could.

"You just had to let them know we'd been written to," she said bitterly, glaring at Harry.

"How was I supposed to know they'd take the letters—?"

"Because letting us keep them would be _nice_ and heaven forbid they do something _nice_!" She began to stomp around in a circle, stumbled, and fell face forward on the desk.

"_Ow_!" she cried, glaring at the desk as though it had hurt her on purpose.

Harry snickered and she turned on him with a dangerous look in her eye.

"I've got a plan to get those letters," Harry said quickly before she could do anything. He knew she was mostly just mad at the Dursleys but now that they were alone in the same room together _he_ was going to get the full blow out.

"How?" she asked settling down on her bed and crossing her arms. Harry sank into the mattress across from her.

"Someone knew we moved out the cupboards and somehow they knew that we didn't get the first letters."

"Go on," said Lilly, and Harry was relieved to hear that the threatening note had left her voice.

"Well don't you think they'll try again?" He asked her.

Lilly shrugged.

"How are we going to get them if Uncle Vernon keeps on ripping them up before we can read them—?" she said.

"That," said Harry, interrupting "is part of the plan."


	7. The Dollhouse

**A/N: Sorry it's taken so long to update! I was at a sleepover, then I was in Chapel Hill with cousins, and then in Charlotte with cousins, then Myrtle Beach, and I'm going back there this weekend….Yeah, busy. **

**So here we go with Chapter 7. Enjoy! (As always, reviews are what inspire me to write. I have two stories going on right now and depending on who gets the most traffic, I continue the more popular. Currently, the other is getting more views…soooooo, just thought you might want to know.)**

Chapter Seven: The Dollhouse

The twins spent the remainder of the day in their room sorting through the piles and piles of stuff that occupied 70% of the space. Things that were broken beyond repair were the first to go in the trash pile. Lilly got permission from Aunt Petunia to take the multiple bags out to the street. Next, they moved the prizes and bulky, awkward toys into the hallway. From there, they became a human conveyer belt system. Harry dumped things out into the hallway; Lilly dragged it up to the attic. Twice, Dudley came out of his room from across the hall; stared at the toys he hadn't bothered to look at in years, and retreated, bawling, back into his room. Harry purposefully chucked some of the toys against Dudley's door after that.

"Last load," Harry said as he pulled the final three boxes full of Pokemon cards out, "do you want me to help you pull those up?"

"I got it," Lilly grunted as she tried to pick up all three boxes at once. Harry made to help her but she began tottering over to the ladder up to the attic, staggering under the boxes.

"You just straighten things up in there," she called over shoulder. Harry shrugged and went in to put the things they'd decided to keep to rights. He had gotten handy with tools from working around the house all those years and began to repair the alarm clock/radio they were keeping. Other than that, only the books, two broken iPods, and the furniture remained. Harry shook his head in distaste.

Lilly set the boxes down in the attic and collapsed on top of them, gasping. While she _maybe_ should have taken up the boxes one-by-one, she hated having to make various trips for something. She sat on top of the boxes and surveyed the sight around her. The attic had been mostly unoccupied until recently…now it was practically bursting with Dudley's toys.

Lilly glanced over at the swinging trap door of the attic and the ladder that would lead her back down to rest of the house. She didn't want to go back to the room with Harry because there she would have to help straighten up. Besides, she normally was never allowed up here into the attic…maybe she should poke around a bit.

Lilly made her way over to the dustier part of the attic, sneezing as she did so. Here were the artifacts that had probably lived in the attic since the Dursleys moved in. Lilly chose a stack of boxes randomly and blew the dust off the top one. She squinted at the lid through the dim. Something was written there on the top. Lilly lifted the lid and peered in, standing on tiptoe to get a good view inside. She leaned against it and suddenly it started tipping.

"_No, no, no, please don't—_" she whispered, trying to regain her balance and hold the box up at the same time. This only made it worse. Lilly Potter and stack of boxes went down in a heap. Miraculously, they didn't upset the other rows of memories and sentimentalities. Lilly snorted. _Never mind_, the Dursleys were _not_ sentimental.

She glanced down at the mess she had made. The other boxes had kept their lids on, much to Lilly's relief, except for the one she had been looking at: it was on its side and whatever was inside was part-way coming out. She sat down next to it and pulled the object in question out of its box.

It was a dollhouse. The furniture was scattered around inside from falling over but it seemed as though it had all been left arranged like a real house. Beds were in the bedrooms; a miniature couch was on its side in the little living room, even a table complete with tiny, delicate chairs was askew in the dining room. Lilly puzzled over it. Aunt Petunia was the last person she would think would have fond memories of playing with a dollhouse. Oh sure, she could easily see her aunt pale and lonely, hiding inside with no friends to run around with outdoors with, (she actually pictured that scene quite a lot) and only finding solace with a dollhouse, but still, Aunt Petunia wouldn't have ever held on to the plaything.

To prove her point, Lilly examined the writing on the box again, looking for clues as to the dollhouse's existence. Why would something like this be held on to because of memories…?

Lilly's jaw dropped. Better question: why wasn't the dollhouse _burned_ because of memories? Because there on the lid was her name. Except it was spelled differently. It only had the one 'l' in the middle.

This was her _mother's_ dollhouse? She looked back at the little home complete with furnishings. _Nah_, couldn't be. The more she thought about, the more preposterous it seemed. Aunt Petunia _hated_ Lilly's mother. That much had always been understood. But then why was this dollhouse sitting in Aunt Petunia's attic in a box clearly labeled 'Lily's Dollhouse'?

Lilly straightened up the box and fixed all the furniture in the house before settling it back into its container. Had her mother handled those little chairs? Innocent afternoons spent happily inside fondling the little house? Lilly had nothing from her parents; no items, no pictures, no memories, no stories…

"_Lilly!?_" came Aunt Petunia's shrill voice, "whatever I just heard you break in there, you are either going to pay for a new one or fix it!"

Lilly cursed. She hadn't realized how much noise she'd made.

"Its fine," she called back irritably, "it's just that I found this—" Lilly broke off. This was the perfect opportunity to confront her aunt about the dollhouse. Did she dare?

"Found what?" Aunt Petunia sounded suspicious, though Lilly knew the dollhouse was in the furthest corner of her memories, if not entirely forgotten.

"I found…" Lilly paused, thought about it, sighed. "Nothing. Never mind, I put it all back."

"Well if you're all finished moving my Dudder's toys, I'll ask you to get out of there…_now_ please."

"Just one minute," Lilly shouted back making her voice sound heavy and wheezy like she was working hard, "I'm kinda—_oof_—stuck back here, it may take—_sigh_—just a minute." There, now she had an excuse to give the dollhouse one last check-over.

"Get out of there soon, I'm putting the ladder up, _whether or not you're down_, in five minutes." Lilly heard Aunt Petunia stomp off and rolled her eyes. They probably would shut her up in the hot attic in _three_ minutes and make Harry get her down.

Quickly, before she was locked up in the oven that was the attic, Lilly peered down into the dollhouse's box and saw, there at the bottom, what looked like a necklace. Lilly reached in to pull it out, but she had pinned down the chain when she had lowered in the dollhouse. Carefully, because she didn't want to upset the doll furniture again, Lilly began to lift out the house to get to the necklace at the bottom.

"_Lilly!_" came her aunt's voice, "if you're not down here in five…four…"

"Shit," Lilly muttered and dropped the house back into its box, deciding to sneak back here later.

"Two…_One_!" The ladder began to rise back up into the attic.

"_Stop!_" Lilly cried, beginning to shimmy down the ladder, "_Stop_, I'm here, I'm coming, no need for panic!" Aunt Petunia only rolled her eyes and walked away muttering something about melodramatic little girls.

Lilly stomped off, huffing and puffing for good measure, and started off down to her old cupboard before remembering she had taken residence in Dudley's second bedroom. She turned back and let herself in.

"Got to get used to that turn-off there," she remarked as she flung herself down on her bed.

"Took you long enough," Harry grumbled from where he was sitting up in his bed, fiddling with a cracked iPod.

"How's it coming over there?" Lilly asked nonchalantly as she picked a book off the shelf randomly.

"I fixed the alarm clock—"

"How 'bout the radio on it?" she asked, suddenly eager. He pursed his lips at her.

"…_and_ the radio."

"_Excellent_," said Lilly turning over on her back, ignoring the annoyed look he was giving her, "how 'bout the iPods?"

By way of answering, Harry chucked one of them over at her and beaned her in the head.

"_Ow!"_

"The screen's cracked," Harry said, ignoring her antics of rolling around clutching her face in agony, "but it works fine. I don't know if I can do anything with this one though." Harry nodded to the iPod in his lap, "I think Dudley dropped it in his cereal one morning…"

"No," said Lilly matter-of-factly, dropping the act, "he flushed it down the toilet "by accident" and then made them call the plumber to come fish it out."

"—Despite the fact that we all knew it was ruined from the water—"

"Exactly, but he really just wanted a new one with more memory."

"That one," Harry specified, pointing to the iPod in Lilly's lap, "which he dropped out of a moving car and then screamed we go back for it."

"—Despite the fact that we all knew it was ruined from the fall—"

"And then got a new one because it was cracked..."

"…Which he never even looks at."

They both shook their head simultaneously before laughing.

"What all's on here?" Lilly asked once they'd stopped. She was scrolling through the iPod's Music library.

Harry shrugged.

"I dunno, I'm not really in to music."

"_I_ _refuse to accept you as my kin until you renounce that statement,_" Lilly deadpanned, staring at him.

He snorted.

"I'm serious Mr. Potter," she insisted

"Same here, Ms. Pott—"

Lilly let out a shriek, her stolid expression gone. She was frantically trying to get the ear buds in her ears.

"What is it?"

"This has the whole _Dizzy Up the Girl_ album on it," Lilly sqealed, "you know, Goo Goo Dolls?"

Harry shook his head.

"No, _surprisingly_, I don't—"

"_Everything you are_…" Lilly began to sing/shout, "_Falls from the sky like a star_…"

"Shush!" Harry hissed throwing his pillow at her, "if they took away the letters, don't you think they'll take away your new iPod?"

Lilly hurriedly clicked Pause and tossed the pillow back to brother.

"Speaking of the letters," she said after a moment, "the plan about tomorrow morning…you're sure you've got the alarm working?"

Harry nodded.

"Positive. We'll get up at six, okay?"

Lilly huffed. She hated getting up early but it was necessary for their plan to work.

"Yeah," she said.

Harry got up to turn out the light.

"Goodnight?" he asked.

"Goodnight," she affirmed and flicked the lights outs. Lilly turned the music back on a little quieter and dozed off to that, deciding to spread out the surprises of her new iPod for the morning.

It was only as she was falling asleep that she remembered the dollhouse and the necklace she had trapped beneath it. Another thought occurred just before sleep claimed her.

What if there were _other_ things from her mother in that attic…?

**A/N: I want to go ahead and put this out there that this takes place in 2009 so that their fourth year can take place in 2012 (don't ask why then, I have my reasons), just so no one gets confused and I can spring technology and pop culture references whenever I want to. Oh yeah, and I live in the USA so a lot (like at the very least 60%) of the music Lilly listens to will be American. It might be a good idea to keep a second browser open so you can youtube the stuff as it comes along…**

**To everyone who keeps reviewing: _You make my day_! I fist pump and dance around whenever I get an email saying someone's reviewed or favorited or alerted or whatever.**


	8. Do You Believe In Magic?

Chapter Eight: Do You Believe in M*g*c?

he repaired alarm clock began chirping at six o'clock the next morning. Harry turned it off quickly and watched Lilly for a second. Her breathing was slow and heavy and he would have almost though she was still out except that she was a light sleeper.

"Get up," he hissed flinging his pillow at her. She caught it before it hit her face and turned to glare bleary-eyed at him.

"Why do we have to—" she began to complain before Harry cut her off.

"You want to know what's in those letters, right?"

Lilly was fully awake in seconds.

They stole out of their room and crept downstairs without turning on any of the lights. They were going to wait on the corner of Privet Drive and get the letters for Number Four first. Harry, who was in the lead, was nervously padding forward towards the front door, his heart hammering—

"AAAARRGH!"

"_What the…!?_!"

Harry leapt into the air; he'd trodden on something big and squashy on the doormat—something _alive_! Lilly only heard the scream and felt her twin jump backwards into her in his panic. She let out a shriek that was only cut short by the lights suddenly being clicked on upstairs, blinding all of them.

As Harry's eyes adjusted he realized with growing horror that the big and squashy something he'd stepped on had been his uncle's face. Uncle Vernon had been lying at the foot of the front door in a sleeping bag, clearly trying to make that Harry and Lilly didn't do exactly what they had been trying to do. He shouted at the Potters for a good half hour before telling them to get out of his sight and make some tea for everyone. Harry shuffled off miserably into the kitchen, dragging Lilly along by her arm, ("I had some well-placed words for him!") and by the time they got back, the mail had arrived, right into Uncle Vernon's lap. They could see six letters addressed in green ink.

"We want—" Lilly began, but Uncle Vernon was tearing the letters into pieces before their eyes.

Uncle Vernon didn't go to work that day. He stayed home and nailed up the mail slot.

"See," he explained to Aunt Petunia through a mouthful of nails, "if they can't _deliver_ them, they'll just give up."

"I'm not sure that'll work Vernon," she said uncertainly.

"Oh, these people's minds work in strange ways Petunia, they're not like you and me," growled Uncle Vernon, trying to knock in a nail with a piece of fruitcake Aunt Petunia had just brought him.

On Friday, no less than eighteen letters arrived for Harry and Lilly. As they couldn't fit in through the mail slot they had been pushed under the door, slotted through the sides and a few even forced through the small window in the downstairs bathroom.

Uncle Vernon stayed at home again. After burning all the letters, he got out a hammer and nails and back doors so no one could go out. He hummed, "I'm Henry the Eighth, I Am" as he worked and jumped at small noises.

On Saturday, things began to get out of hand. No less than twenty-four letters to the Potter children found their way into the house, rolled up and hidden inside each of the two dozen eggs that their very confused milkman had handed Aunt Petunia through the living room window. While Uncle Vernon made furious phone calls to the post office and the dairy, trying to find someone to complain to, Aunt Petunia shredded the letters one-by-one in her food processor.

"Who on earth wants to talk to you guys this badly?" Dudley asked the twins in amazement.

On Sunday morning, Uncle Vernon sat down at the breakfast table looking tired and rather ill, but satisfied nonetheless.

"No post on Sundays, he reminded them cheerfully as he spread marmalade on his newspapers, "no damn letters today—"

Something came whizzing down the kitchen chimney as he spoke and caught him sharply on the back on the head. The next moment, thirty or forty letters came pelting out of the fireplace like bullets. The Dursleys ducked but Harry leapt up on to the table trying to catch one. Lilly went running towards the chimney grate, one hand up to protect her face and the other out. Like magic, as though it had been specifically aimed, a letter shot straight into her hand.

"I GOT ONE!" she crowed and ran into the hall. Harry kept on stupidly trying to catch one for himself before realizing they were most likely the same thing and ran out after her. He was, however, right behind Uncle Vernon, who was busy screaming incomprehensible things at his niece. Lilly, for her part, was ripping her letter out as fast as she could.

"BACK…LETTER…_NOW_!" Shouted Uncle Vernon.

"_Salazar Slytherin, Rowena Ravenclaw, Godric Gryffindor, and Helga Hufflepuff,_" Lilly began to shout, dancing out of Uncle Vernon's reach, "_of the Hogwarts School of_—"

"_NO!_" screamed Uncle Vernon as he leapt forwards with all the grace of a ballerina and tackled Lilly just as Harry jumped on top of him. Lilly gave a muffled scream of pain from underneath the two bodies and Harry quickly scrambled off, trying to pull his uncle up in the process. _Good heavens, they could have killed her!_ Harry knew he was about eighty or ninety pounds and guessed that Uncle Vernon had to be something like 310+!

"_Get off her!_" he yelled in Uncle Vernon's ear, the letters forgotten in his concern for Lilly's safety. Uncle Vernon heaved himself up, letter in hand, but Harry hardly noticed.

"You okay?" he asked his sister, pulling her into a sitting position. Her body wracked as though she was trying to breathe but the wind had obviously been knocked out of her. Her eyes shot behind Harry and narrowed angrily.

"_Hey!_" she managed to gasp.

Harry whipped around. Uncle Vernon was tearing the only letter that Lilly had salvaged from the other room. Harry opened his mouth to yell something when Aunt Petunia and Dudley ran in, their faces more than a little paper-cut. As the door blew open they could all hear the letters still streaming into the room, bouncing off the walls and floor.

"That does it," said Uncle Vernon, trying to speak calmly but pulling great tufts out of his mustache at the same time. "I want you all back here in five minutes ready to leave. We're going away. Just pack some clothes. No arguments!"

He looked so dangerous with half his mustache missing that no one dared argue. (Actually, one of them did dare argue, but she couldn't talk, or really breathe for that matter at the moment, so they all dispersed with Harry half-leading, half-carrying his feebly protesting sister up the stairs.)

Ten minutes later they had wrenched their way through the boarded-up doors and were in the car, speeding toward the highway. Dudley was sniffling in the back seat; his father had hit him round the head for holding them up while he tried to pack his television, VCR, and computer in his sports bag.

They drove. And they drove. And they drove. Even Aunt Petunia didn't dare ask where they were going. The only episode they had in the car was when she suggested they maybe turn some music on. Uncle Vernon only grunted for response and allowed her to flick the radio on.

"_It won't wipe off your face no matter how hard you try__,_" the radio began to sing. Lilly visibilly perked up.

"_Your feet start tapping and you can't seem to find._" Lilly started humming along.

"_How you got there so just blow your mind._" By this point Lilly was singing along softly, the content smile on her face that always appeared when she was singing. Harry, for lack of something better to do, started to bounce his head along with the radio as well.

"If you believe in _magic_—" Lilly sang.

The car screeched to a halt there on the highway. Several other cars were forced to suddenly swerve around, the horns blaring. Uncle Vernon didn't even notice.

"_Don't say_—!" He shouted before shutting his lips tight. The effort to keep from exploding on Lilly was making him turn beet red. They all stared at him, terrified; waiting for what it was they weren't allowed to say.

"Never mind," he said quietly, a scary smile twitching on his face. He turned slowly back around in his seat, "Never mind…Petunia dear; let's turn off the tunes, hm?"

After that, no one said anything and they drove along in the heavy, crushing silence.


	9. The Hut on the Rock

Chapter Nine: The Hut on the Rock

Every now and then, Uncle Vernon would take a sharp turn and drive in the opposite direction for a while.

"Shake 'em off…shake 'em off," he would mutter darkly whenever he did this.

They didn't stop to eat or drink all day. By nightfall, Dudley was howling. He'd never had such a horrible day in his life. He was hungry, he'd missed five television programs that he'd wanted to see, and he'd never gone so long without blowing up and alien on his computer.

At long last, Uncle Vernon pulled up outside a gloomy-looking hotel on the outskirts of a big city. Harry, Lilly, and Dudley had to share a room. Dudley got his own bed (complete with damp musty sheets) and the twins were supposed to share the other. They waited until Dudley went to sleep and began snoring loudly until they went to sit at the windowsill, staring down at the lights of passing cars, whispering and wondering.

They ate stale cornflakes and cold tinned tomatoes on toast the next morning for breakfast. They had just finished up when the owner of the hotel came over to their table.

"'Scuse me, but is one of Mr. or Ms. L. Potter? It's just that I got about an 'undred of these at the front desk."

She held up two letters so they could read the green ink addresses:

_Mr. H. Potter_

_Room 17_

_Railview Hotel_

_Cokeworth_

_Ms. L. Potter_

_Room 17_

_Railview Hotel_

_Cokeworth_

Harry and Lilly both lunged for the letters but Uncle Vernon knocked them away. The woman stared.

"I'll take them," said Uncle Vernon, standing up quickly and following her out of the dining room.

"Wouldn't it be better to just go home, dear?" Aunt Petunia suggested timidly, hours later, but Uncle Vernon didn't seem to hear her. Exactly what he was looking for, none of them knew. He drove them into the middle of a forest, got out, looked around, shook his head, got back in the car, and off they went again. The same thing happened in a plowed field, halfway across a suspension bridge, and atop a multilevel parking garage.

"Daddy's gone mad, hasn't he?" Dudley asked Aunt Petunia nervously late that afternoon. Uncle Vernon had parked at the coast, locked them all in the car, and disappeared. Aunt Petunia pressed her lips into a thin line and didn't say anything.

It had started to rain. Great drops beat on the roof of the car, Dudley sniveled.

"It's Monday," he said to no one in particular, "The Great Humberto's on tonight. I want to say somewhere with a _television_."

"…And I want to be Queen of the World," Lilly muttered. No one paid her any attention.

Monday. That reminded Harry of something. If it was Monday—and you could usually count on Dudley to know the days of the week, because of the corresponding television events—then tomorrow, Tuesday, was his and Lilly's eleventh birthday. Of course, birthdays were never exactly fun—last year the Dursleys had given him a pair of Uncle Vernon's old sock and Lilly and received a wire coat hanger. Of course, she had been able to manipulate it into a lock-picker so it wasn't entirely a waste, but birthdays typically ended up being a rather gloomy day. Then again, you weren't eleven every day.

He glanced at Lilly. Had she even realized it was her birthday tomorrow? He hadn't gotten her anything. Last year it had been a picture of the two of them. While normally that equaled a pretty crappy present, the Potters didn't appear in a lot of photographs so it was special to them when they did. The year before that, she had received a simple hair clip. Harry remembered that she had given him _Free Ice Cream Cone!_ coupon to the local parlor that year, (he didn't know how she gotten hold of that) and a trick yo-yo the year they turned nine.

He leaned over and whispered in her ear, "Last day of being ten."

She turned her head from looking out the window.

"_Ooh boy!_" she whispered back, mock glee on her face, "…what'd'ya get me?"

He began to tell her that her present was at home, (while furiously trying to think of something he could find there,) when Uncle Vernon came smiling back to the car.

He was carrying a long think package and didn't answer when Aunt Petunia asked what it was he'd bought.

"Found the perfect place!" he said instead. "Come on! Everyone out!"

It was very cold outside the car. Uncle Vernon was pointing at what looked like a large rock way out at sea. Perched on top of the rock was the most miserable little shack you could imagine. One thing was certain; there was no television in there.

"Storm forecasts for tonight," said Uncle Vernon cheerfully, clapping his hands together. "And this gentleman's kindly agreed to lend us his boat!"

A toothless old man came ambling up to them, pointing with a rather wicked grin at an old rowboat bobbing in the iron gray water below them.

"I've already got us some rations," said Uncle Vernon, "so all aboard!"

It was freezing in the boat. Icy sea spray and rain crept down their necks and a chilly wind whipped their faces. After what seemed like hours, they reached the rock, where Uncle Vernon, slipping and sliding, led the way to the broken-down house.

The inside was horrible; it smelled strongly of old seaweed, the wind whistled through the gaps in the wooden walls, and the fireplace was damp and empty. There were only two rooms.

Uncle Vernon's rations turned out to be a bag of chips each and five bananas. He tried to start a fire but the empty chip bags just smoked and shriveled up.

"Could do with some of those letters now, eh?" he asked cheerfully.

He was in a very good mood. Obviously he thought that nobody stood a chance of reaching them here in a storm to deliver mail. Lilly privately agreed, though the thought didn't cheer her up any.

As night fell, the promised storm blew up around them. Spray from the high waves splattered against the walls of the hut and a fierce wind rattled the filthy windows. Aunt Petunia found a few moldy blankets in the second room and made up a bed for Dudley on the moth-eaten sofa. She and Uncle Vernon went off to the lumpy bed next door, and the Potters were left to find the softest bit of floor to curl up on under the thinnest, most ragged blanket. Lilly found some sand that had blown up into the corner of the shack and they used that to carpet the floor.

The storm raged more and more ferociously as the night went on. Neither Potter could sleep. They were curled up next to each other, trying to find warmth in the other person's body heat, and still shivering uncontrollably.

"I'm hungry," Harry muttered mostly to himself.

Lilly turned over to look at him.

"What time is it?" she whispered.

"Huh?"

"What time is it?"

Harry turned over to look at the lighted dial of Dudley's watch, which was dangling over the edge of the sofa on his fat wrist. It said that they would be eleven in fifteen minute's time.

"11:45." he whispered to his sister.

Lilly sat up, reached into her pocket, and pulled out two pieces of candy.

"Here," she said, handing him one. "They're peppermints. I got them off the hotel's front desk."

"Thanks," Harry said, gratefully taking and unwrapping his.

"Cheers," she said holding hers out to him.

"Cheers."

They both toasted each other and popped the peppermints into their mouths. Harry tried to savor his but it was gone all too quickly. They sat for a moment in silence, sitting close together for warmth, watching their birthday tick nearer and nearer on Dudley's wristwatch.

"You think they'll even remember?" Lilly finally whispered.

"That it's our birthday?" Lilly nodded.

Harry shrugged.

"Doubt it." he whispered back. The clock hands kept ticking. Ten more minutes.

"Wonder where the letter writer is now."

Harry just shrugged again.

Five minutes to go. Something creaked outside. Lilly dully hoped that the roof wasn't about to cave in, though they might be warmer if it did.

Four minutes now. Maybe the house at Privet Drive would be so full of letters that when they got back, she'd be able to steal one somehow.

Three more minutes to go. Was that the sea, slapping hard on the rock like that? And (two minutes now) what was that funny crunching noise? Was the rock crumbling into the sea?

"Harry!" Lilly whispered, "Do you hear that?"

Harry was staring at Dudley's clock.

"One more minute now," he said distractedly.

"I'm serious, what's that noise?"

"Thirty more seconds…should we wake Dudley up, just to annoy him?"

"It's getting louder—!"

"Ten…nine…eight…" Despite herself, Lilly joined him.

"Three…two…one…_Hap—_"

BOOM.

The whole shack shivered and the Potters sat bolt upright, Lilly barely containing a shriek. Someone was banging on the door just outside, knocking to come in.


	10. The Keeper of Keys

Chapter Ten: The Keeper of the Keys

BOOM. They knocked again. Dudley jerked awake.

"Where's the canon?" he asked stupidly, blinking.

"I told you!" Lilly hissed at Harry furiously, not paying Dudley any attention, "but did you listen to me? Oh no, heaven forbid we ever pay attention to what I say and now we're about to get _eaten_ by an effing sea monster—"

"Will you shut up!?" Harry hissed back just as Uncle Vernon came crashing and skidding into their room. He was holding a rifle in his hands—so that was what had been in the long, thin package.

"Who's there?" he shouted. "I warn you—I'm armed!"

There was a pause. And then—

SMASH!

The door was hit with such force that it swung clean off its hinges. With a deafening crash it landed flat on the floor.

A giant of a man was standing in the doorway, suddenly framed dramatically as a lightening blot struck behind him. As he squeezed himself into the hut, stooping so that his head just brushed the ceiling, they could see that his face was almost completely hidden by a long shaggy man of hair and a wild, tangled beard, but you could make out his eyes, glinting like black beetles under all the hair. Dudley let out an involuntary whimper of fear.

The giant scanned the scene in front of him quickly, bent down, picked up the door, and fitted it easily back into its frame. The noise of the storm outside dropped a little. He turned back and gave the room another, much longer, survey.

"Couldn't make us a cup o' tea, could yeh? It's not been an easy journey…"

He strode over to the sofa where Dudley sat frozen in fear.

Budge up, yeh great lump," said the stranger.

Dudley squeaked in terror and ran to hide behind his mother, who was crouching, terrified, behind Uncle Vernon.

"An' here's Harry an' Lilly!" said the giant, finding the twins who were still sitting, shocked in front of the sofa. Lilly looked up into the fierce, wild, shadowy face and saw that the beetle black eyes were crinkled up in a smile.

"Las' time a saw you two, you was only babies! My but you look just like yer parents! Can't see any differences, really." The giant paused and scrutinized each of their faces carefully, "Nah, Arry's got eyes like yer mum. Spittin' images otherwise!"

Uncle Vernon made a funny rasping noise,

"I demand that you leave at once, sir!" he cried, "You are breaking and entering!"

"Ah, shut up, Dursley, yeh great prune," said the giant; he reached over the back of the sofa, jerked the gun out of Uncle Vernon's hands, bent it into a know as easily as if it were made of rubber, and through it into the far corner of the room.

Uncle Vernon made another funny noise; like a mouse being trodden on.

"Anyway—Harry an' Lilly," said the giant, turning his back on the Dursleys, "a very happy birthday to yeh. Got summat fer yeh here—I mighta sat on it at some point, but it'll still taste alright

From an inside pocket of his black overcoat, he pulled a slightly squashed white box. Harry took it from him with trembling fingers. Inside was a large sticky chocolate cake with _Happy Birthday Harry and Lilly_ written on it in green icing. Lilly's mouth began to water just looking at it and it occurred to her that this man whom they had never met had just given them a present. She pinched herself, hard. No, she wasn't dreaming, because that hurt like shit. Could this possibly be reality?

Harry looked up at the giant. He meant to say thank you, but the words got lost on the way to his mouth and what he said instead was, "Who are you?"

"_Harry!_" Lily hissed, elbowing him painfully in the ribs.

The giant chuckled however.

"He's true, I haven't introduced myself. Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds of Hogwarts."

He held out an enormous hand and shook Harry and Lilly's whole arms in turn.

"What about that tea then, eh? he said, rubbing his hands together. "I'd not say no ter summat stronger if yeh've got it, mind."

His eyes fell on the empty grate with the shriveled chip bags in it and he snorted. He bent down over the fireplace; they couldn't see what he was doing but when he drew back a second later there was a roaring fire there. It filled the whole damp hut with flickering light and the Potters, (who were closest) felt the warmth wash over them like sinking into a hot bath.

The giant sat back down on the sofa, which sagged under his weight, and began taking all sorts of thinks out of the pockets of his coat: a copper kettle, a squashy package of sausages, a fire poker, a teapot, several chipped mugs, and a bottle of some amber liquid that he took a swig from before starting to make tea. Soon the hut was full of the sound and smell of sizzling sausages. Nobody said a thing while the giant was working, but ash he slid the first six, fat, juicy, slightly burnt sausages from the poker, Dudley fidgeted a little. Uncle Vernon noticed barked sharply,

"Don't touch anything he gives you Dudley."

The giant chuckled darkly.

"Yer great puddin' of a son don' need fattenin' anymore, Dursley, don' worry."

He passed the sausages to Harry and Lilly, who were so hungry that it didn't matter that they burned the insides of their mouths—the sausages seemed to be the most delicious things they'd ever tasted. They didn't look up until the giant passed another six to them with a chuckle. Harry waited, and when no one seemed about to explain anything he glanced at his sister and they had a silent but furious discussion with their eyebrows.

"_Who _is_ he?_" Harry asked her, cutting his eyes at the giant.

"_You ask._" she indicated, dipping her head towards Harry.

"_Nuh-uh, _you," he insisted, shaking his head. She paused

"_Fine_," Lilly rolled her eyes and then smirked at him, "_scaredy cat._"

Harry opened his mouth to retort out loud but she cut him off and addressed the giant.

"I'm sorry, but we still really don't know who you are," Lilly said in her politest tone, and then quickly added a, "sir."

The giant took a gulp of tea and wiped hi mouth with the back of his hand.

"Just call me Hagrid," he said, "everyone does. An' like I told yeh, I'm Keeper of Keys at Hogwarts—and yeh know all about Hogwarts o' course."

"Er—no," said Lilly.

Hagrid looked up shocked.

"Sorry," she said quickly.

"Sorry?" barked Hagrid, turning to glare at the Dursleys, who shrank back into the shadows. "It's them that should be sorry! I knew yeh weren't getting' yer letters but I never thought yeh wouldn't even know abou' Hogwarts fer cryin' out loud! Did yeh ever wonder where yer parents learned it all?"

Harry and Lilly exchanged bewildered looks. She jerked her head in Hagrid's direction and the nodded towards Harry.

"_Your turn_," the look said. Harry sighed.

"Sorry," he said timidly, "But all _what_ exactly?"

"ALL WHAT?" Hagrid thundered. "now wait jus' one second!"

He had leapt to his feet. In his anger he seemed to fill the whole hut. The Dursleys were cowering against the wall.

"Do you mean to tell me," he growled menacingly at the Dursleys, "that these two children—these two of all people!—know nothin' abou'—about ANYTHING?"

Harry, for one, thought this was going a bit far. He had been to school, after all, and his marks weren't all bad.

"I know _some_ things," he said. "I can, you know, do math and stuff."

"Me too," said Lilly stubbornly. Under Harry's patronizing glance she muttered, "more or less."

But Hagrid simply waved his hand said, "About _our_ world, I mean. _Your_ world. _My_ world. _Yer parents world!_"

"What world?"

Hagrid looked as though he was about to explode.

"DURSLEY!" he boomed.

Uncle Vernon, who had gone very pale, whispered something that sounded like "Mimblewimble." Hagrid stared wildly at Harry and Lilly.

"But yeh must know about yer mom and dad," he said, "I mean, they're _famous_. You guys are _famous_."

Lilly's stomach flipped over. Fame?

_No, no_, she thought stupidly, _I wanted to _earn_ it_. Then she realized how ridiculous she was being. She wasn't _famous_, she couldn't be.

"What?" Harry was asking, his eyes, like hers, reflecting incredulity, "My, I mean, o-our parents weren't famous, were they?"

"Yeh don' know…yeh don' know…" Hagrid ran his fingers through his hair and fixed the Potters with a bewildered stare.

"Yeh don' even know what yeh are?" he said finally.

Uncle Vernon finally found his voice.

"Stop!" he commanded, "Stop right there, sir! I forbid you to tell them any more!"

A braver man than Vernon Dursley would have quailed under the furious look Hagrid now gave him; and when Hagrid spoke, his every syllable trembled with rage.

"You never told them. Never told them what was in the letter Dumbledore left fer 'em? I was there! I saw Dumbledore leave it, Dursley! And you've kept it from 'em all these years?"

"Kept from what from us?" Lilly asked eagerly. Harry bobbed his head, his eyes shining with anticipation.

"STOP! I FORBID YOU!" yelled Uncle Vernon in panic. Aunt Petunia gave a gasp of horror.

"Ah, go boil yer heads, both of yeh," said Hagrid. "Harry, Lilly—yer magic."

…


	11. The Keeper of Keys, Part II

Chapter Eleven: Keeper of Keys, Part II

There was silence in the hut. Even the sea and the whistling wind outside seemed to quiet out of respect for the moment. Lilly raised her eyebrows. Any second this huge man was going to crack a smile and call his own bluff. This was just some huge joke and he was about to tell them the real story that made sense and they could go back to living their horrible, boring lives. So if that was the case, why did the Dursleys seem so horrified by his revelation…?

Harry was the first to speak.

"I'm—we're—_what_?" he gasped.

"Well," said Hagrid, sitting back down on the sofa, which groaned and sank even lower, "_you're_ a wizard." He then pointed at Lilly, "and _she's_ a witch. Human wielders of magic and the like. And you'll be thumpin' good'uns, I'd say, once yeh've been trained up a bit. With a mum an' dad like yours, what else would yeh be?"

"A witch?" Lilly asked, finally finding her voice. "…You mean like the Wicked With of the West…or, like, _all_ the Disney stepmothers?"

"What?" said Hagrid, squinting at her, confused, "You mean the way Muggles portray them? With the warts and green skin?" Lilly nodded.

"Oh no," said Hagrid in a reassuring voice, "That's jus' rumors we started, makes it easier to blend in that way, see? People think the only way a witch can be a witch is if she's got whiskers and a big, hooky nose. There's nothing wrong with bein' one." He smiled as if this cleared up everything.

Lilly still looked wary, she didn't know whether or not to think this was a joke (her number one explanation) or be insulted, or excited. Because if this was real then that meant that…

_No, no,_ she told herself, _this _can't_ be real_.

"Here," Hagrid said warmly, pulling her out of her thoughts, "I reckon it's abou' time ye read yer letters." He was holding out two envelopes, one to her and one to Harry. She exchanged a quick glance with him. One look and she knew he wasn't buying this either. But he shrugged and stretched out his hand to, at last, take the yellowish envelope, addressed in emerald green. Lilly tentatively reached out for her own and saw it was written to Ms. L. Potter, The Floor, Hut-on-the-Rock, The Sea.

Lilly looked up at Harry and pulled out her letter. He nodded towards her and she read aloud for them both.

"Salazar Slytherin,

Rowena Ravenclaw,

Godric Gryffindor,

_and _

Helga Hufflepuff

_of _

The Hogwarts School _of_ Witchcraft _and_ Wizardry,

Invite You to their Institution, for the Purpose of Bettering Young Minds in the Field of the Magical Arts.

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(_Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,_

_Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards_)

_Dear Ms. Potter_, (Lilly glanced up and added, _and Mr. Potter_)

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. _

_ Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later that July 31._

_ Yours sincerely,_

Minerva McGonagall,

_ Deputy Headmistress"_

It finally began to click in Lilly's mind that this just might not be a joke. Because she wasn't dreaming, and this was starting to look more and more official, and no one would go through all this trouble to play a practical joke on _her_…

Meanwhile, questions were exploding inside Harry's head like fireworks and he couldn't decide which to ask first. After a few moments he stammered, "What does it mean, they await our owl?"

"Gallopin' Gorgons, that reminds me," said Hagrid, clapping a hand to his forehead with enough force to knock over a cart horse, and from yet another pocket inside his overcoat he pulled an owl—a real, live, rather ruffled-looking owl—a long quill, and a roll of parchment. With his tongue between his teeth he scribbled a note that Harry could read upside down:

_Dear Professor Dumbledore,_

_ Give the Potters the letters._

_ Taking them to buy their things tomorrow._

_ Weather's horrible. Hope you're well._

_ Hagrid_

Hagrid rolled up the note, gave it to the owl, which clamped it in its beak, went to the door, and threw the owl out into the storm. Then he came back and sat down as though was as normal as talking on the telephone. Harry glanced at Lilly and saw that his confusion and wonder was mirrored in her face. He realized his jaw was open and quickly clamped it shut. Lilly followed suit.

"Where was I?" said Hagrid, but at that moment, Uncle Vernon, still ashen-faced but looking ver angry, moved into the firelight.

"They will not be going," he said firmly.

Hagrid grunted as if Uncle Vernon was of no importance to him.

"I'd like ter see a great Muggle like you stop him," he said.

"A what?" Harry piped up, interested. Lilly was still battling with reality/not-reality and was busy wondering if someone had slipped her some LSD.

"A Muggle," said Hagrid, "it's what we call non-magic folk like them. AN' its bad luck that you grew up in a family of the biggest Muggles I ever laid eyes on."

"We swore when we took them in we'd put a stop to that rubbish," said Uncle Vernon, "swore we'd stamp it out of them! Magic indeed! Wizards…witches!"

Lilly had just decided that yes, this was all happening (after pinching herself very, _very_ hard) and that life had just taken on new meaning and that the possibilities were endless now and her head was reeling when Uncle Vernon's information made its way into this every-growing knowledge-bomb. This was, understandably, when the above mentioned bomb went off.

"You _knew_?" she cried. "_You knew that we were magic_! YOU KNEW I'M A WITCH!?"

"Knew!" shrieked Aunt Petunia suddenly. "KNEW! Of course we knew! How could you not be, with my dratted sister being what she was? Oh, she got a letter just like that and disappeared off to that—that school—and came home every vacation with pockets full of frog spawn, turning teacups into fats. I was the only one who saw her for what she was—a freak! But for my mother and father, oh no, it was Lily this and Lily that, they were proud of having a witch in the family!"

She stopped to take a deep breath and went ranting on. It seemed as though she had been wanting to say all this for years.

"Then she met that Potter at school and they left and got married and accidentally had the two of you! Of course we knew you'd be just the same, just as strange, just as—as—_abnormal_! And then Mummy and Daddy got killed and her crowd swooped in and started making the decision for the family, feeding us this story about a gas-leak! _Pah_! They hardly even knew what a gas-leak was! And then they said that Lily couldn't come to the funeral because she was away on magical business. The others, the cousins, they all bought it but I knew—_I_ _knew_! I knew it was _her_ _fault_ and it came as no surprise when we found out a month later that she'd gotten herself blown up and we were landed with you two!"

If Aunt Petunia was livid it was nothing compared to her niece. Lilly was literally shaking with rage.

"Blown up?" she said, struggling to keep her voice contained, "you told us they _died in a_ _car crash_!"

"CAR CRASH!" roared Hagrid, with a fury that nearly matched Lilly's. He jumped up so angrily that the Dursleys scuttled back into the corner. Dudley seemed to be shedding real, genuine tears.

"How could a car crash kill Lily an James Potter!" he shouted, "Its an outrage! A scandal! Harry an' Lilly Potter not knowin' their own story when every kid in out world knows their names!?"

"But why? What happened to make us so special?" Harry asked urgently. (He wasn't nearly as shaken up about Aunt Petunia's story as his sister; he was mostly ticked off at being called an accident.)

The anger faded from Hagrid's face at Harry's question. He looked suddenly anxious.

"I never expected this," he said, in a low, worried voice, "I had no idea, when Dumbledore told me there might be trouble getting' hold of yeh, how much yeh didn't know. Look Harry, (Lilly simmering in the corner and it seemed best to not address her at the moment,) I don' know if I'm the right person ter tell yeh—but I s'pose someone's gotta—yeh can't rightly off ter Hogwarts not knowin'."

He threw a dirty look at the Dursleys.

"Well, it's best yeh know as much as I can tell yeh—mind, I can't tell yeh everythin', it's a great myst'ry, parts of it…"

He sat down and said without looking up, "it'll do yeh no good glow'rin' back there, Lilly. Come here so I can see yeh, an' tell it proper that way."

Lilly, eyes a-roll, stood up and sat back down with her back against the fireplace. Harry sat in the same position on the opposite side. They glanced at each other, apprehension and excitement equal in their faces and then turned back to Hagrid expectantly. He sat looking into the fire for a few seconds, and then began…

…


	12. The Keeper of Keys, Part III

Chapter Eleven: The Keeper of the Keys, Part III

"It begins, I suppose," said Hagrid, "with—with a person called—ah, but its incredible you don't know his name, everyone in our world does—"

"Who!?"

"Well—I don' like sayin' the name if I can help it. No one does."

"Why not?"

"Gulpin' gargoyles, Lilly, people are still scared! _Blimey_, this is difficult. See, there was this wizard who went…bad. As bad as you can go. Worse. _Worse_ than worse. His name was…"

Hagrid gulped, but no words came out.

"Come on," Lilly pleaded. Curiosity, she was sure, was going to be her downfall one day, but she'd come to terms with destiny long ago.

"Maybe you could write it down," Harry suggested helpfully.

"Nah, I can't spell it. Alright—_Voldemort_." Hagrid shuddered. "An' don' make me say it again. Anyway, this—this wizard, about twenty years ago, started lookin' fer followers. Got 'em too—some were afraid, some just wanted to share in a bit o' his power, 'cause he was gettin' power all right. Dark days, mind you. Yeh didn't know who ter trust, didn't dare get friendly with anyone yeh didn't know already…terrible things happened. He was takin' over. 'Course some people stood up to him—an' he killed 'em. Horribly. One o' the only safe places was Hogwarts. Reckon Dumbledore's the only one You-Know-Who was ever afraid of. He didn't dare try takin' over the school, not jus' then, anyway.

"Now yer mum an' dad were as good a witch an' wizard as I ever knew. Head boy an' girl at Hogwarts in their day! Suppose the myst'ry is why You-Know-Who never tried to get 'em on his side before…probably knew they were too close to Dumbledore ter want anything ter do with the Dark Side."

The Dark Side. The image of Darth Vader filled Lilly's mind and she frowned. This story was sounding too…epic to be hers…

"Maybe he thought he could persuade 'em," Hagrid was saying, "maybe he just wanted 'em outta the way. All anyone knows is that he showed up in the village where you was all living, on Halloween night—"

"Halloween?" Harry interrupted.

Hagrid nodded, "Yeah, why?"

Harry shook his head, "Nothing, just…trying to get the image."

Hagrid nodded again, giving them a look of empathy before continuing; "It was ten years ago, you two was only babies…a year old. He came ter yer house an' he—he…"

Hagrid suddenly pulled out a very dirty, spotted handkerchief and blew his nose with the sound like a foghorn.

"Sorry," he said, "But it's just that sad—I knew yer mum an' dad, an' nicer people yeh couldn't find." Hagrid visibly collected himself and gave himself a shake as though that could rid him of the hard feelings.

"Anyway," he said, "You-Know-Who killed 'em. An' then—an' this is the real myst'ry of the thing—he tried to kill you both in one go. Two babies! Wanted to make a clean job of it, I s'pose, or maybe 'e jus' liked killin' by that point. But he couldn't do it. You ever wondered how you both got the marks on yer foreheads?"

Harry and Lilly glanced at each other. The scars were involved in this as well? They'd always thought it was a bit of a joke. Non-identical twins with identical scars? Funny, right? But Hagrid gave them a knowing look.

"Those 're no ordinary cuts." he said, "That's what happens a powerful, evil curse touches yeh—it took care of yer mum an' dad and the house even—but it didn't work on you, an' that's why yer famous. No one's ever live after _he_ decided to kill 'em, no one, except you two, and he'd killed some o' the best witches an' wizards of the age—the McKinnons, the Bones, the Prewetts—an you two was only babies and' you lived."

The Potters looked at each other. Lilly looked stunned, this was the most terrifying and amazing thing she'd ever heard in her life, and Harry was fighting a very painful battle in his mind. As Hagrid's story came to a close, he saw the blinding flash of green light, more clearly than ever before—and something else, for the first time in his life: a high, cold, cruel laughter. His jaw dropped. Lilly had said before that she remembered red eyes. Could all of them: the eyes, laughter, light, and pain be what Hagrid was referring to. A _legend?_

Hagrid was watching the pair of them sadly.

"I took yeh from the ruined house myself, on Dumbledore's orders. Brought yeh ter this lot, something I deeply apologize for now…"

"Load of old tosh," said Uncle Vernon. Harry and Lilly both jumped, they'd each almost forgotten that the Dursleys were there. Uncle Vernon certainly seemed to have regained his courage. He was glared at Hagrid with his fists clenched.

"Now you listen here," he snarled, turning to the children sitting on the floor, "I accept that there's something strange about you, probably nothing a good beating wouldn't have cured—and as for all this about your parents, well, they were weirdoes too, no denying it, and the world's better off without them in my opinion—asked for what they got, getting mixed up with these wizarding types—just what I expected, always knew they'd come to a sticky end—"

But at that moment, Hagrid leapt form the sofa and drew a battered, pink umbrella from inside his coat. Brandishing this at Uncle Vernon like a sword, he growled, "I'm warning you Dursley—I'm warning you—one more word…"

In danger of being speared on the end of an umbrella by an angry bearded giant; Uncle Vernon's courage failed him again; he flattened himself against the wall and fell silent.

"That better," said Hagrid, breathing heavily and sitting back down on the sofa, which this time sagged right down to the floor.

Meanwhile, Lilly had crawled over to her brother, without taking her eyes off Uncle Vernon nearly getting his ass whooped of course, and began hissing furiously in his ear.

"Are you believing this?"

Harry looked at her with round eyes.

"I want to," he said slowly.

"Me too…so if you take that away does any of this make sense or is it all just us wanting it to?"

Harry hesitated.

"Yes," he said finally, "I think…Lilly I think he's telling the truth."

Lilly sat down next to him, satisfied.

"Good," was all she said.

"If it is though," whispered Harry, who had hundred of questions to ask Hagrid, and was trying to figure out which were the best, "what happened to the Voldermord guy?"

"It was Voldemort," she corrected, a little too loudly because at that point Hagrid had just gotten back on the sofa and flinched at the sound.

"Sorry," said Lilly blushing, "but that was right, wasn't it?"

Hagrid nodded solemnly.

"Well…" she glanced at Harry for support, "what happened to him…after that I mean."

"Good question, Lilly. Disappeared. Vanished. Same night he tried ter kill you two. It makes yeh even more famous. That's the biggest myst'ry see…he was getting' more an' more powerful—why'd he go?

"Some say he died. Codswallop, in my opinion. Dunno if he had enough human left in him to die. Some say he'd still out there, bidin' his time, but I don't believe it. People who was on his side came back ter ours. Some of 'em came outta a kind o' trance. Don' reckon they could've if he was comin' back.

"Most of us reckon he's still out there but lost his powers. Too weak to carry on. 'Cause somethin' about you finished him. Something happened that night that he hadn't counted on and you two came out alive and he might as well be dead now.

Hagrid looked at the Potters, sitting on the floor with their legs criss-crossed, one with broken, taped-up glasses and the other pinching herself continuously, _just to be sure_, with such warmth and respect blazing out of his eyes. Lilly, however, had just guaranteed that though she was _not_ dreaming it didn't assure that Hagrid was not just making a mistake. She wasn't popular, she wasn't pretty, she wore tacky clothing, and she had had a crush on the same boy since first grade without him realizing a thing. So how could she _possibly_ be special? Lilly wasn't an insecure child by _any_ means, however, it was hard to miss that her only friend was her twin brother.

Harry was going through the same struggle. He'd spent his entire life being clouted by Dudley, and bullied by Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon; if he really was a wizard, why hadn't he been able to turn them all into warty toads every time they'd tried locking him in the awful cupboard? He glanced at Lilly. If they had really once defeated the greatest sorcerer in the world, how come they hadn't been able to blast the doors off the hinges and strike out into the street to live on their own years ago?

"Hagrid," he said quietly, "I think you must have made a mistake. We can't," and here he added an apologetic look at Lilly, "We can't be…magic."

To Harry's slight relief, Lilly nodded in agreement.

"I'm not a witch." she said simply, "and he isn't a wizard."

To their surprise, Hagrid chuckled.

"Not a witch, eh? Not a wizard? No magic? Let me ask you something—you never made things happen? Strange things when you were scared or angry?"

Lilly opened her mouth when a thought occurred to her. There was the time when the flowers had appeared in the vase and she'd been punished for it. She hadn't understood what the problem was because the flowers seemed to naturally go there—she wasn't at all surprised when the appeared—that the fuss about the matter had been completely beyond her.

And then there was the time when she'd apparently flipped off the end of swing set at the playground.

Another time, something she hadn't told Harry because she'd written it off as being tired but now seemed strange, was when she was on set for _Mary Poppins_ and they'd hoisted her up in the air to fly. When it was time to go down, they'd made the rope go slack to start her descent but she'd stayed afloat, suspended dreamily on air above the set. Surprised, she'd snapped out her trance and fell four feet through the air where the harness caught her. She hadn't told anyone about it, for fear of getting in trouble for flying when she should have come down. It had seemed so natural that by the time she _would_ have remembered that people don't fly it had faded to recesses of her mind.

"I kind of flew once," she said timidly.

"And I made my hair grow," said Harry, and then added with a mischievous grin, "…and I set a boa constrictor on Dudley."

Hagrid was positively beaming at them.

"See?" he said, "Harry and Lilly Potter, not magic—you wait, you'll be right famous at Hogwarts."

But Uncle Vernon was not going down without a fight.

"Haven't I told you they're not going?" he hissed. "_He_ will be starting at Stonewall High on the 24th." He rounded on Lilly, "and _you!_ _You_ will be starting at the exclusive, private Applewood School of Arts in a _week_ and you will be more than grateful that we went through…the paperwork for you!" He ended a little unsteadily and it gave Hagrid the perfect opportunity.

"Split them up!?" he cried, "What's this abou' splittin' 'em up? I've known them for all of 'alf an hour and I can tell they don' wan' ter be split. Do yeh?" He turned to the Potters.

Lilly shook her head. It was about time that an adult listened to her for once!

"No, that's what I've been trying to tell them…!"

"There now!" cried Hagrid, still outraged "Do yeh not even care? Don't yeh even care a bit?"

Uncle Vernon looked uncertain. This wasn't where he wanted the argument to go.

"I've read those letters," he said, "and they need all sorts of rubbish—spell books and wands and—"

"If they want to go—_together_," cried Hagrid, "a great Muggle like yourself isn't going ter stop 'em! Stoppin' the leg'cies of Lily an' James Potter from goin' ter Hogwarts, indeed! Yer mad. Their names have been down ever since they were born. They'll be off ter the finest school of witchcraft and wizardry this side in Europe—an' that's a fact!—and in seven years they won't know themselves! They'll be with youngsters of their own sort fer a change, an' they'll be under the greatest headmaster Hogwarts ever had, Albus Dumble—"

"I AM NOT PAYING FOR SOME CRACKPOT OLD FOOL TO TEACH EITHER OF THEM MAGIC TRICKS!" Uncle Vernon screamed.

But he had finally gone too far. Hagrid seized his umbrella and whirled it over his head, "NEVER—" he thundered, "—INSULT—ALBUS—DUMBLEDORE—IN—FRONT—OF—ME!"

He brought the umbrella swishing down through the air to point at Dudley—there was a flash of violet light, a sound like a firecracker, a sharp squeal, and the next second, Dudley was dancing on the spot with his hands clapped over his fat bottom, howling in pain. When he turned his back on them, a pink, curly, pig's tail was poking through a hole in his trousers, for all the world to see.

Aunt Petunia gave a high-pitched scream of horror and Uncle Vernon pulled her and Dudley into the other room with a roar and one last, terrified look at Hagrid. The resounding slam of the door echoed with Lilly's laughter. Hagrid looked down at her, bemused, at how she was clutching her sides, rolling on the floor. Harry was also having a hard time keeping it together, tears of mirth already streaming down his face.

"_Did you—see his—face_?" he howled, the second he got a breath in.

Lilly sat up straight for a moment and mimed an expression of horror.

"Oh!" she cried, in a shocked voice, "I've got a tail!" Then they both dissolved back into another fit of giggles.

Finally, when Lilly had laughed so hard, her body hurt and she'd almost forgotten what it was that was so funny—it just felt good to laugh like that—Harry pulled her to her feet and they dusted themselves off, still grinning widely.

"That was _epic_, Hagrid!" Lilly said, employing her favorite word.

"Best thing I've ever seen in my life…" Harry trailed off, confused at the embarrassed look on Hagrid's face. "What?" he asked.

"Well," said Hagrid, "I'd jest be grateful if yeh didn't mention that ter anyone at Hogwarts. I'm—er—not supposed ter do magic, strictly speakin'. I was allowed ter do a bit ter follow yeh an' get yer letters to yeh—one of the reasons I was so keen ter take the job…"

"Why aren't you supposed to do magic?" Lilly asked

"Oh, well—I was at Hogwarts meself but I—er—got expelled, ter tell yeh the truth. In me third year, They snapped me wand in half an' everything. But Dumbledore let me stay on as gamekeeper. Great man, Dumbledore."

"Why were you expelled?" Lilly blurted before Harry could elbow her in the ribs. He glared at her.

_None of your business_, said the look.

It didn't matter because Hagrid started hemming and hawing anyway.

"It's getting late," he said, "and we've got lots ter do tomorrow. Gotta get up ter town, get all yer books an' that."

He took off his thick black coat and threw it to Harry, who nearly fell down from the force of it.

"There," he said, "Yeh two can kip under that. Don' mind if it wriggles a bit, I think I still got a couple dormice in one of the pockets."

**A/N: It's that time of year again. (I'm so excited) because school starts tomorrow! Huzzah, huzzah! I will keep updating this, but homework comes first and despite what my little brother claims, I _do_ have a life and don't spend all my free time writing behind a computer screen. (I sometimes hide behind a book and read.) **

**I love everyone who reviews from the heart of my bottom ( ;-P) and you guys are what inspire me to write more! Sometimes it makes good grades look less appealing and fanficiton far more rewarding…**

**Yes, I _do_ realize that Lilly's magical outbursts happen more when she's happy rather than angry, despite her fiery disposition because there is a super-sweet, find-the-beauty-in-everything side to her as well. (Then if she can't find the beauty in something she believes she might as well start a fight with it.) **

**Sorry for the spiel and 'till next time!**

**~FND~**


	13. Mum Olga's Cooling Powder

Chapter 13: Mum Olga's Cooling Powder  
(_for all your cooking needs_)

Harry woke late the next morning. Although he could tell it was daylight, he kept his eyes shut tight.

"It was a dream," he told himself firmly, "I dreamed a giant called Hagrid came to tell me I was going to a school for wizards and witches with Lilly. When I open my eyes, I'll be at home in my cupboard."

There was suddenly a tapping noise.

_And there's Aunt Petunia knocking on the door_, Harry thought, his heart sinking. But he still didn't open his eyes. It had been such a good dream.

He heard Lilly humming. She was about to burst into song and if he wasn't out of bed soon, Aunt Petunia would yell at him from the kitchen.

"All right," Harry mumbled. "I'm getting up."

He sat up and Hagrid's heavy coat fell off him. The hut was full of bright sunlight, the storm over. Hagrid and Lilly were hunched over a cheerful little fire in the grate, roasting sausages. Lilly heard the coat slump off and paused from her merry hum to look around at him.

"Hey there, Sleeping Beauty," she said, smiling.

"What's the tapping?" Harry asked groggily. He wanted to make sure all the puzzle pieces fit and that this wasn't an extension of his wild dream.

"What?" Hagrid grunted and he turned to see an owl rapping its claw on the opposite window, a newspaper held in its beak.

"Oh," said Hagrid, "There's the paper. I' got it." He began to stand up but Lilly beat him to it.

"No, no sit back down, we'll do it," she said eagerly, "Come on you." She added when she grabbed Harry under the arm and yanked him to his feet as she strode over to the window. Harry stumbled after her.

"Just let 'im in." Hagrid called after them. Lilly grabbed the window and pulled on it.

"You have to unlock it first, dear," Harry said, popping the latch. She shot him a glare.

"You aren't supposed to be this smart when you first wake up." was all she said as she jerked the window open. The owl swooped in and dropped the newspaper on the collapsed couch. Lilly poked him to get his attention.

"Can you believe this?" she whispered to Harry, her face alive with excitement.

"No," Harry replied, "this is amazing."

"It's _fantastic_!" Lilly agreed, "He did more magic this morning to light the fire."

"You saw him do it this time?"

Lilly nodded, smiling from ear-to-ear and Harry felt a pang of jealousy.

_Oh stop it_, he told himself, _with any luck _you'll_ be able to do the same stuff soon_. A pecking sound interrupted his thoughts and he and Lilly both turned to see the owl attacking Hagrid's shoulder.

"Hey!" Lilly shouted at it.

Hagrid chuckled.

"Nah, its fine." he said, "I don' feel it. 'Sides, he wants 'is pay like any other man."

Still chuckling, Hagrid reached over to his coat and rummaged through the pockets.

"…in here somewhere," he muttered.

"What is?" Harry asked curiously as he and Lilly drew up next to him.

"Money." Hagrid said, "'Scuse me, but just hold this." he pulled out a ring of keys that must have had at least a hundred different ones of various sizes on it and handed it to Lilly. Next came out a ball of color-changing string which Harry held on to, wonderment in his eyes, followed by some teabags, slug pellets, and peppermint humbugs.

Finally, Hagrid's hand emerged full of strange-looking coins.

"What're those?" Lilly asked, looking up from the slug pellets in her hands.

"These?" said Hagrid, "oh. Well these little brass ones here are Knuts and I," he turned to the owl, "owe you five of them, don't I?"

The owl hooted in agreement and held out a pouch tied to his foot. Hagrid dropped five of the coins in and tied the pouch. With one last polite hoot, (which probably translated to "thank you") the owl took off through the open window.

"How much do those equal in regul—er—Muggle money?" Lilly asked, proud of her new vocabulary.

"I dunno," said Hagrid, "one pence, last time I checked, but it may've changed."

Lilly opened her mouth to ask another question but Hagrid cut her off.

"We'd best be off, got lots ter do today. We have ter get up ter London an' buy all yer school stuff."

A hissing noise came from the fireplace and Hagrid turned to look at it.

"Ah, perfec'," he said. He stuck his hand into yet another pocket from his coat and pulled out a mysterious powder. After sprinkling it on the sausages, he reached his hand in and pulled out the pan.

"There we are," he said, offering it to Harry and Lilly, "don't worry, they aren't so hot any more." Lilly carefully reached in and touched one of the links. It didn't burn her.

"How'd you do that?" she asked, taking a few of the sausages. Hagrid shrugged.

"Mum Olga's Cooling Powder," he said, taking a few sausages himself, "keeps yeh from burnin' yerself." He held the pan out to Harry and they sat there, munching happily on the cooled-off-sausages, courtesy of Mum Olga, before Hagrid wiped his hands on his trousers and started for the door.

"Come on then," he said, holding it open, "beau'iful morning ou' here. Bes' get in ter town while it's early." Lilly scrambled to her feet and turned to help Harry up, her face beaming. Harry, however, did not take her hand. A thought had just occurred to him and he felt as though his happiness had just got a puncture.

"Hagrid," he said slowly, "We, uh, we haven't got any money—and you heard what Uncle Vernon said last night…they, well, _they_ certainly won't pay for us go and learn magic." The smile on Lilly's face flickered.

"Oh yeah," she said, turning slowly to look at Hagrid, "What'll we do—" To her surprise, Hagrid was chuckling again.

"D'yeh think yer parents didn't leave yeh anything?"

"But if their house was destroyed—" Harry said.

"They didn' keep their gold in the house, boy! Nah, first stop fer us is Gringotts. Wizards' bank. Don' ferget yer cake, it'd go nicely with yer sausage." Lilly seemed to process this new information without a hitch and scampered over to where they had put the cake for the night. Harry, however, wanted to know everything about everything in this new world.

"Wizards have banks?"

"Just one. Gringotts. Original branch is here in England," Hagrid said proudly, then added as an afterthought, "You'll like it…It's run by goblins."

"_Goblins_?" Harry asked, incredulous.

"_Goblins_!" Lilly squealed, excited.

"Yeah," said Hagrid, as he beckoned them out of the door.

"Oh!" Lilly cried suddenly, "_una momenta, per favor_." She thrust the cake into Harry's hands and dashed over to the door to the second room.

"Lilly, leave them alone—" Harry began tiredly.

Lilly hammered on the door.

"We're leaving now," she called, "but we'll be back soon, so don't worry." There was a peep of fear from behind the door and then Uncle Vernon bellowed.

"GOOD! DON'T COME BACK IF YOU DON'T HAVE TO!"

Lilly nodded happily.

"Glad you understand; we'll be back by tonight.

"_Oh no_," they heard Dudley groan.

"I love you guys too!" Lilly sang over her shoulder as she joined Harry and Hagrid outside.

"Okay," she said happily, "_Now_ we can go."

**A/N: There we go, chapter 13! (my apologies to any triskaidekaphobians out there) I want to respond/thank my reviewers because I have not done so in a while.**

**tweeterslove: thank you, it means a lot that you think its the best one!**

**i am the chameleon: i think the next update question is self-explanatory ;) (ps, ur username's hilarious)**

**armywife22079: thank you, i am trying to keep it different from the books enough to stay interesting, when i wrote those last chapters i was a little overdue for an update and i apologize for it not being my best. a lot of it, however, was hagrid explaining things to them and the way he did it was sort of the best. as for book four: otherwise it would kinda defeat the purpose and i know its a big cliche but ive figured out a way to work around it...so yeah, dont really want to give away surprises... (and we'll just have to see about lilly's fancies, won't we!?)**

**ali: dear, dear ali you are probably my favorite (no offense anybody). plz, dear, do try to hold ur horses as I write to get them to hogwarts. it will happen. i promise. i want to happen as much as you do. :)**

**potternerd94 (love the name): haha, love you. ur my other favorite! this one was dedicated to you. **

**nosebitingteacup: (love ur name too) i always look forward to ur reviews, u r a so sweet, my friend. glad ur enjoying!**

**everybody else (just coz you guys didn't really ask questions to answer but still deserve awesome-points: mjkcsk, innoxious, linde13, Ruby101, and leafstone: thanks guys, it means alot!**


	14. Not the X Men

**Disclaimer: Haven't done this in a while and probably should before the FanFiction police are unleashed on me. As always, and as it shall stay for the remainder of the story, J K Rowling is Queen of the World; I am not important, yadah yadah yadah…**

Chapter Fourteen: _Not_ the X-Men

Harry and Lilly followed Hagrid onto the gleaming, slippery rock. The sky was clear now and the sea twinkled and flashed in the sunlight. The boat Uncle Vernon had hired was still there, but just barely: a lot of water was in the bottom after the storm.

"How did you get here?" Harry asked, looking around for another boat.

"Flew," said Hagrid as he carefully tested his footing on the way down the rock.

"_Flew_?" Lilly squealed, slipping suddenly.

"Yeah," said Hagrid, "but I s'pose we'll go back in this. Not s'psed to use magic now that I've got yeh."

"But…" said Harry, looking back at the hut, "what about the Durselys?"

"Blimey, Harry!" Hagrid cried, "You still care?"

"It _would_ kinda suck to starve to death when you're _looking_ across at land, like, a mile away," Lilly agreed.

"They'll swim it, then." said Hagrid, "it's less than a mile." Harry snorted.

"Remember when Dudley tried to take a physical at the pool?" he asked Lilly, "and he nearly drowned?" She snorted with laughter but turned to Hagrid.

"No way," she said. Hagrid looked from Lilly's face to Harry's in disbelief.

"Amazing," he muttered, as he pulled out his umbrella, "….absolutely amazing." He pointed the umbrella at a spot on the ground, mumbled something, and suddenly brilliant, orange flames had erupted from that point. Lilly leaned forward to look at them.

"Stay back," Hagrid barked at her, "those things have to be hot enough to burn on top of the water; you think they're not hot enough for your face?"

Lilly scrambled back to stand next to Harry (also jaw-dropped), blushing, but remained entranced by the ever-growing fire. Next, Hagrid pointed the battered umbrella at the hut and muttered another curious phrase. Harry and Lilly both watched the house expectantly for something else amazing to happen but nothing did.

"Um, Hagrid?" Lilly asked after a moment, "Did that last one work?"

"Oh yeah," Hagrid called, who was below them, lowering himself slowly into the boat, "that'll guard the house from the fire when it gets big enough to attract help. Now are you two coming or what?"

The Potters slipped and slid their way down the rock to where the boat was sitting low in the water, especially now that Hagrid was in it. Lilly reached down to grab the paddles out of the bottom and was met with a sideways look from Hagrid.

"Seems a shame ter row," he said slowly, "If I was ter—er—speed things up a bit, would yeh mind not mentionin' it at Hogwarts.

"Of course not," said Harry, eager to see more magic. He shared a glance with Lilly, both sets of green eyes dancing with anticipation to see more magic. Hagrid caught the look, chuckled, and pulled out the pink umbrella yet again, tapped it twice on the side of the boat, and they sped off towards land.

"So…" said Lilly after a moment, "there are goblins involved in this world too?" She was thinking back to every movie or book she'd read that had made mention of this suddenly "fantasy" world. Now all she really wanted to know was what _else_ was really out there…?

"Goblins?" said Hagrid, "Oh yeah, you'll find most of 'em working at Gringotts. They take a lot o' pride in it, bein' pretty much the only ones who work in the banks. Lot o' pride. That's why yeh'd be mad to try an' rob one. Never mess with goblins, that's a good lesson ter learn quick, never mess with a goblin. Gringotts banks are the safest places in the world for a reason—'cept maybe Hogwarts. As a matter o' fact, I gotta visit Gringotts today anyway. Fer Dumbledore. Hogwarts business." Hagrid gave them a slightly cocky smile. "He usually gets me ter do important stuff fer him. Like fetchin' you two, gettin' things from Gringotts, knows he can trust me, see?"

"Are goblins dangerous?"

"Dangerously _clever_," Hagrid corrected, "Ruthless too. They know the way about spells and enchantments, which ones to use and where." Hagrid was now unfolding his newspaper, "They say there's dragons guardin' the higher-security vaults. And then yeh got ter find yer way around—Gringotts is hundreds of miles under London, see. Deep beneath the Underground. Yeh'd die o' hunger tryin' ter get out, even if yeh did manage to get yer hands on summat."

Hagrid disappeared then behind his newspaper, the _Daily Prophet_. Harry and Lilly had learned long ago from Uncle Vernon that people liked to be left alone when they did this: it was a ritual that should not go disturbed.

"_Goblins_," Lilly suddenly hissed into Harry's ear, (he _hated_ it when his sister did that without warning him,) "And _dragons_. What else do you think there is? Djinnis? Rocs? Brownies? Faeries?"

"Cut it out," Harry whispered back, shrugging her off, "I dunno, do I? Maybe. We'll ask him later, alright?"

"Ministry o' Magic messin' things up as usual," Hagrid muttered suddenly, turning a page.

"There's a Ministry of Magic?" Harry asked before he could stop himself.

"'Course," said Hagrid, "They've wanted Dumbledore fer Minister fer ages, o' course, but he'd never leave Hogwarts, so old Cornelius Fudge got the job. Bungler if there ever was one. 'Stead o' runnin' it by 'imslef, he pelts Dumbledore with owls every morning, askin' fer advice."

"But what does a Ministry of Magic _do_?"

"Well, their main job is to keep it from the Muggles that there's still witches an' wizards up an' down the country."

"Why?"

"How many of you—_us_ are there?"

"Good questions," said Hagrid, "Harry, if the world knew abou' us they'd either all be want' magic solutions to their problems; or they'd be so scared of us they'd try to ter lock us up, do all kinds' o' tests on us."

"Oh," said Lilly, nodding, "Like the X-Men!"

"Oh yeah!" Harry exclaimed, "It would be like that, wouldn't it?" The twins grinned at each other before realizing that Hagrid was watching them as though they had five heads each.

"You know!" said Lilly, "_X-Men!_ ...Wolverine?" She prompted Hagrid by "growing" Wolverine claws. Hagrid just looked more and more worried.

"Never mind," said Harry quickly, "so how many witches and wizards are there? Compared to Muggles, I mean."

"Well," said Hagrid, still watching Lilly nervously, "abou' a third of a percen' of people are magic in the world, but mos' o' those are in America. England it's smaller, less than a quarter of a percen'."

Lilly began to ask a follow up question when the boat bumped gently into the harbor wall. Hagrid folded up his newspaper, and the three of them clambered up the stones steps onto the street.

**A/N: Hello again my lovies! (Notice that I changed it back on the other chapter, this is all happening in 2009, not '05 anymore) Oh yeah, and I set up my proportion below, hopefully it translates well onto ff. There were 62,262,000 people living in the UK according to an estimate in 2011. If there are 0.25% magic people in the UK then that means there are secretly 155,655 wizards and witches there now. This is probably totally disproportionate to JK's world but its fanfiction so I can make it _mine_! Bwahahaha! **

**Love y'all, ~FND**

155,655_25  
62,262,000_1000


	15. The Leaky Cauldron

**Disclaimer: JK Rowling reigns supreme. All hail the Queen of Harry Potter…**

Chapter Fifteen: The Leaky Cauldron

Passerbys stared a lot at Hagrid as they walked through the little town to the station. Harry couldn't blame them. Not only was Hagrid twice as tall and three times as wide as everyone else, but he also kept pointing at perfectly ordinary things like parking meters and saying loudly, "See that, Harry? Things these Muggles dream up, eh?...Tissue, Lilly?" (This of course on account of Lilly laughing, (because everything seemed ten times funnier now that magic existed in the world) but she didn't want to hurt Hagrid's feelings.)

"S'okay Hagrid," she kept wheezing, ignoring Harry's warning glares, "Just allergies."

"Allergies?" Hagrid asked, and so Lilly launched into a twenty minute discussion with Hagrid about allergies (apparently wizards and witches didn't have them) and Hagrid started on something called "dragon pox" that could only attack those with two magic grandparents. Harry was only half-listening (the things Lilly got interested in never ceased to surprise him) when he remembered something.

"Hagrid," he said, interrupting Hagrid's beautifully illustrated memories of having dragon-pox as a four-year old (which Lilly was listening to with rapt attention).

"Yes?" said Hagrid, looking just a little disgruntled.

"When you say dragon-pox, you really mean…_dragon_ pox?" Hagrid looked at him, confused, for a moment before his face brightened.

"Oh yeah," he said, "well, if I remember correc'ly, dragon pox used to jus' be fer dragons 'till it mutated an' started feedin' on other magic bein's. Humans an' dragons get it wors' though. Poor things…dragons ain't got medicines agains' it, yeh know."

"They don't?" Lilly said just as Harry said,

"Poor things?"

"Yeah," said Hagrid, a distant look in his eyes, "Crikey I'd like one!"

"You'd _like_ one?" the twins cried, because even _that_ surprised Lilly.

"Ever since I was a kid," said Hagrid, "Right, here we are."

They had reached the station. There was a train to London in five minute's time. Hagrid who didn't understand "Muggle money," as he put it, gave the bills to Lilly to buy their tickets. (Harry had to stop her from squirreling some of the change up her shirt.)

People stared even more than ever on the train. Hagrid took up two seats, and, oblivious to it all, sat knitting what looked like a canary-yellow circus tent the whole time.

"Still got yer letters?" he asked as he counted stitches.

Harry and Lilly simultaneously pulled the parchment envelopes out of their pockets.

"Good," said Hagrid. "There's a list in there of everythin' yeh'll need."

Harry unfolded a second piece of paper he hadn't noticed the night before with Lilly looking on over his shoulder.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL  
_of_ Witchcraft _and_ Wizardry

_Uniform  
_1. First-year students will require:  
2. Five (5) sets of plain work robes (black)  
3. One (1) plain pointed hat (black) for day wear  
4. One (1) pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)  
5. One (1) winter coat (black, silver fastenings)  
_Additional clothing is recommended, though students may have no more than one trunk, enlarging charms _not_ allowed.  
_Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags.

_Course Books  
_All students should have a copy of each of the following:  
_The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)_ by Miranda Goshawk  
_A History of Magic_ by Bathilda Bagshot  
_Magical Theory_ by Adalbert Waffling  
_A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration_ by Emeric Switch  
_One Thousand Herbs and Fungi_ by Phyllida Spore  
_Magical Drafts and Potions_ by Arsenius Jigger  
_Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ by Newt Scamander  
_The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection _by Quentin Trimble

_Other Equipment  
_1 wand  
1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)  
1 set glass or crystals phials  
1 telescope  
1 set brass scales

_Student may also bring an owl OR a car OR a toad._

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS  
ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS.

"Can we buy all this in London?" Lilly asked.

"If yeh know where to go," said Hagrid.

* * *

The Potters had never been to London before. Although Hagrid seemed to know where he was going, he was obviously not used to getting there in an "ordinary" way. He got stuck in ticket barrier on the Underground and was obliged to let five men push him out. After that, he complained loudly that the seats were too small and the trains too slow.

"Don' know how Muggles manage without magic," he said as they climbed a broken-down escalator up to a bustling road lined with shops.

Hagrid was so huge that he parted the crows easily; all Harry and Lilly had to do was hold on to each other's hands, follow in his wake, and try not to gawk at everything.

They passed book shops and music stores, hamburger restaurants and cinemas, hair salons and designer outlets, but no where that looked like it could be selling magic wands…not even under the table. This was just an ordinary street full of ordinary people. Could there really be piles and piles of gold buried beneath them? Were there really shops that sold spell books and broomsticks?

"When are we gonna get there?" Harry whispered to his sister. She shrugged.

"I dunno, do I?" she said, quoting his words from earlier, "Soon. We'll find out later, alright?" Harry glowered at her which she returned with a smirk. He was about to retort when,

"This is it," said Hagrid, coming to a halt, "The Leaky Cauldron. It's a famous place."

Harry raised his eyebrows. Lilly, whose view was blocked by Hagrid, trotted around from behind him and felt her expectations go flat. They were looking at a grubby-looking pub. If Hagrid hadn't pointed it out, Lilly doubted she would have noticed it. She exchanged a glance with Harry, her eyebrows raised too, as if to say, "_Really? _That's_ it_?"

"Hagrid—" Harry began, about to ask if this was truly the right place, but Hagrid put a hand on his and Lilly's backs and steered them in.

The impression on the inside was about as fantastic as the one outside. For a "famous" place, it was very dark and shabby. A few old women were sitting together drinking tiny glasses of sherry. One of them was smoking a long pipe. In a corner, a woman had bubbles floating around her head and every time she hiccupped, more spouted out of her mouth and joined the cloud hovering above her. A little man was talking to the old bartender, who was quite bald and looked like a toothless walnut. The low buzz of chatter stopped when they walked in. Everyone seemed to know Hagrid; they waved and smiled at him, and the bartender reached for a flagon, saying, "'Ello Hagrid, the usual then?"

"Can't Tom, I'm on official Hogwarts business," said Hagrid. He pushed the Potters forward out of his massive shadow; as if that was all the explanation needed.

"Good heavens," said the bartender suddenly, peering at the Potters, "are these—could this really be—?"

Lilly turned around to look behind her—was she missing something? She turned back to see that the entire Leaky Cauldron had gone silent, everyone staring at her and her twin.

"Harry," she breathed, not daring to move her lips, "what's going on?"

"Bless my soul," whispered the old bartender, "The Potters in this pub…what an honor." He hurried out from behind the bar, rushed toward the pair and seized their hands, tears in his eyes.

"Welcome back," he said, in a voice choked with emotion, "welcome back." Lilly didn't know what to say. Everyone was looking at them. She saw Harry out of the corner of her eye looking as confused as she felt. The old woman with the pipe was puffing on it without realizing it had gone out. The bubbly witch in the corner gave an excited hiccup and that seemed to break the spell.

Suddenly, there was a great scraping of chairs and the next second the Potters were being swamped with literally everyone in the Leaky Cauldron coming up to shake their hands, all talking at once.

"…Doris Crockford, Mr. Potter, I can't believe I'm meeting you at last…"

"…So proud, Ms. Potter, I'm just so proud..."

"…D'you think you could sign something really quick Harry? My family wouldn't believe me otherwise!"

"Always wanted to shake your hand—I'm all a-flutter!"

"Delighted, Ms. Potter, just can't tell you, Diggle's the names, Dedalus Diggle."

"I've seen you before!" Lilly cried suddenly as Dedalus Diggle's top hat fell off in his excitement. She turned to Harry, "Remember! He bowed to us in that shop!"

"Oh yeah!" Harry cried. Dedalus was shocked at their exuberance.

"They remember!' he shouted, looking around at everyone. "Did you hear that? The Potters remember _me_!"

Harry and Lilly shook hands again and again—Doris Crockford kept coming back for more. It took another fifteen minutes to get away from them all. At last, Hagrid managed to make himself hear over the babble.

"Must get on!" he bellowed, "lots ter buy…Come on you two."

Lilly disentangled herself from two brothers who were getting her autograph to show their mother and joined Harry as he gave Doris Crockford one last hand shake. Hagrid led them towards a door in the back.

"That was the _weirdest_ thing that's ever happened to me," Harry declared once they were out of earshot.

"What?" said Hagrid, "those people?"

"Y-You r-r-really should get u-used to the i-i-idea," said a voice. Lilly jumped as a pale, trembling man suddenly appeared right in her peripheral vision. She whirled around and regarded him warily until Hagrid smiled and stepped forward.

"Professor Quirrell!" he said happily, "Harry, Lilly; Professor Quirrell will be one of your teachers at Hogwarts."

"Pleasure," Lilly said, trying to redeem her guarded impression by thrusting her hand out. Quirrell hesitated, rolled his eyes a bit wildly, and then finally grasped her hand.

"P-P-Pleasure is all mine, M-Ms. P-Potter."

"What sort of magic do you teach, sir?" Harry asked as Quirrell jerkily reached for his hand.

"D-Defense Against the D-D-Dark Arts," muttered Professor Quirrell, as though he'd much rather not think about it. "N-Not that you n-need it, eh?" He laughed nervously. "You'll be g-getting all your equipment, I sup-p-pose? I've g-got to p-pick up a new b-book on vampires, m-myself." Lilly smiled at him again.

"Maybe we'll see you soon, then," she said cheerfully. She was trying hard to ignore how weird this guy was and hoped she didn't sound false.

"Yes maybe…" he said, looking terrified at the very thought.

"Alright well, we'd best be off," said Hagrid awkwardly, steering the Potters again towards the door.

"Bye," Lilly said waving before she was shunted into a small, walled courtyard, where there was nothing but a trash can and a few weeds.

Hagrid was beaming at them again.

"Told yeh, didn't I? Told yeh you was famous. Even Profesor Quirrell was tremblin' ter meet yeh. Mind you, he's usually tremblin'."

"Is you usually that nervous?"

"Oh yeah. Poor bloke. Brilliant mind. He was fine while he was studyin' outta books but then he took a year off ter get some firsthand experience….They say he met vampires in the Black Forest, and there was a nasty bit o' trouble with a hag—never been the same since. Scared of the students, scared of his own subject—now, where's my umbrella?"

Lilly grinned at Harry.

"_Vampires and hags_," she mouthed.

"_I know!_" he mouthed back, his smile just as wide as hers.

Hagrid, meanwhile, was counting bricks in the wall above the trash can.

"Three up…two across…" he muttered. "Right, stand back."

He tapped the wall three time with the point of his umbrella.

The brick he touched quivered—it wriggled—in the middle a small hole appeared—it grew wider—a second later they were facing an archway large enough even for Hagrid, an archway onto a cobbled street that twisted and turned out of sight.

"Welcome," said Hagrid, "to Diagon Alley."

**A/N: I am so so sorry it has been so long! I meant to do some serious writing last weekend but we had cousins coming into town so that means my mom had to clean the whole house to impress her sister…the boys were out of town so we had to do it on our own…Martians came and abducted my dog…yeah, pretty crazy**

**Anyway, that was chapter fifteen, hope you enjoyed, please leave a review in my inbox, they truly do make me write more…**


	16. Diagon Alley

Chapter Sixteen: Diagon Alley

"Pinch me," Lilly said, blinking. Harry didn't respond; he just stood there staring, open-mouthed.

"Well come on then," Hagrid said, grinning at their amazement. He stepped through the archway and the Potters stumbled after him. Lilly looked over her shoulder and saw the archway shrink back into a solid wall.

"Did you see…?" she began to Harry, but by then they were in the Alley and there were so many _other_ things to look at.

A man with a cart full of birdcages was getting his dozens of multi-colored canaries to warm up their voices for passing shoppers.

A young mother walked by, pushing a hovering baby carriage in front of her; she was singing a song under her breath that sounded a lot like "…_I'm drunk on a love potion, and it's all because of youuuuu_…"

A little girl dropped something in a trashcan nearby, only to have it belch it back out and say, "Now _really_, you should know that belongs in the recycling!"

A man and a woman walked past, just as the woman's wrist watch screamed, "_Hurry up or you'll be late! Hurry up or you'll be late! Hurry up or you'll be late…_" It continued until the woman pulled out a stick (a real wand, Lilly assumed) and rapped on it. The man sighed and told her,

"You _really_ need to get that fixed."

On the opposite side of the street, two identical young women marched past, a floating quill and paper drifting along in front of them, each woman trying to dictate the letter differently.

"…so help me, I will _hex your hair off_ if you put that in the note to mother," one of them snapped as they went past.

The sun shone brightly on a sign behind the two women. _Cauldrons—All Sizes—Copper, Brass, Pewter, Silver—Self-Stirring—Collapsible_.

"Yeah, yeh'll be needing one," said Hagrid, noticing Lilly's gaze, "but first we gotta get yer money." With that, he stepped out into the street, and the Potters could only follow him, wide-eyed, mouths a-gape.

Lilly wished she had about eight more eyes. She turned her head in every direction as they walked up the street, trying to look at everything at once: the shops, the stalls, the displays, the people doing their shopping. A dumpy, little woman outside an Apothecary was shaking her head as they passed, saying "Dragon liver, eighteen sickles an ounce, they're mad…!"

A low, hooting came from a dark shop with a sign saying Eeylops Owl Emporium—Tawny, Screech, Barn, Brown, and Snowy. Several kids who seemed to be Lilly's age had their noses pressed against a window with broomsticks in it. "Look," she heard one of them say, "the new Nimbus Two Thousand—fastest ever—" there was a general "ooh," from the assembled group.

There were shops selling robes, shops selling telescopes and strange silver instruments, windows stacked with barrels of bat spleens and eels' eyes, tottering piles of spell book, quills, and rolls of parchment, potion bottles, globes of the moon…

Amidst all the head-turning, Lilly occasionally caught sight of the be-speckled boy next to her, his eyes just as round and shining as she knew hers were.

"This is unreal," she whispered to Harry excitedly. He nodded and pointed at a stray cat that was changing colors, about to comment on it when Hagrid said,

"Look, there's our Gringotts."

They had now reached a snowy white building that towered high over the other little shops. Standing beside its burnished bronze doors, wearing a pressed blue and white uniform, was—

"Yeah, that's a goblin," said Hagrid quietly as they drew near, "…and it migh' be a good idea ter not stare like that." The Potter twins each shut their mouths with a snap looking quickly away from the figure, each discreetly steeling glances at the figure as they passed. He was good head shorter than Lilly, (who preferred the term '_fun-sized_' to short) and had a clever, swarthy face, a pointed beard, and, Lilly noticed, very long fingers and feet. He bowed to them as they passed through the commanding bronze doorway. Now the trio was at a second pair of doors; delicate, silver-and-glass ones this time, with words etched upon them:

_Enter, stranger, but take heed  
__Of what waits the sins of greed,  
__For those who take, but do not earn,  
__Must pay most dearly in their turn.  
__So if you seek beneath out floors  
__A treasure that was never yours,  
__Thief, you have been warned, beware  
__Of finding more that treasure there…_

"A little ominous, don't you think?" Lilly said nervously as a second goblin bowed them through the silver doors.

"Like I said, yeh'd be mad ter try an' rob it," Hagrid agreed.

They found themselves in vast marble hall. The ceiling was a high, glassed-in dome that allowed the sunlight to filter in. The walls were made of the same white marble as the outside but there seemed to shining gold veins streaked through the walls. About a hundred more goblins were sitting on high stools behind a long, polished, mahagony counter, scribbling in large ledgers, weighing coins in brass scales, examining precious stones through eyeglasses. Behind them were two, tall, columned hallways, with too many doors to count leading off these, and yet more goblins showing people in and out of the dark doorways. Hagrid made his way to the counter, Harry and Lilly scrambling behind and trying not to stare at everything.

"Morning," said Hagrid cheerfully to a free goblin, "We've come ter take some money outta the Potters' safe.

"I see," said the goblin exhaustedly, shuffling some papers on his desk without looking up, "you understand you'll have to specify _which_ Potters…?"

"_The_ Potters," Hagrid said importantly, "Harry and Lilly." The goblin paused, looked up at Hagrid with a suspicious glare, and stood up to peer over the desk at the two, small children. Lilly smiled at him awkwardly.

"Oh," he said simply, and sat back down as though this was normal protocol, "And you have their family key, sir?"

"Got it here somewhere," said Hagrid, as he started emptying his pockets onto the counter, scattering a handful of moldy dog biscuits and a half-cracked chicken egg (or at least, what _looked_ like a chicken's egg) on top of the goblin's book of numbers. He wrinkled his nose. Lilly nudged her brother and discreetly jerked her head at a goblin weighing a pile of glowing rubies to their left.

"It's like the scene from _Aladdin_," she whispered excitedly. Harry rolled his eyes at her.

"You know," she hissed, unfazed, "in the Cave of Wonders?" Harry just shook his head, smiling.

"Got it," said Hagrid finally, holding up a tiny gold key. The goblin took it and examined the delicate thing closely.

"That seems to be in order then," he said, a bit grudgingly.

"An' I've also got a letter from Professor Dumbledore," said Hagrid proudly, throwing out his chest. "It's about—" and here his voice dropped to a whisper, "—the You-Know-What in vault Seven Hundred and Thirteen." He produced a letter, which Lilly noticed was also in that special green ink, and the goblin read over it carefully.

"Very well," he said, hading it back to Hagrid, "I will have someone take you down to both vaults. Griphook!"

Griphook turned out to be yet another goblin. Once Hagrid had crammed all the dog biscuits back into his pockets and delicately placed the egg on top of them, he and the Potters followed Griphook toward one of the doors leading off the hall.

"What's the You-Know-What in vault Seven Hundred and Thirteen?" Lilly asked eagerly.

"Can't tell yeh that," said Hagrid mysteriously, "Very secret. Hogwarts business. Dumbledore's trusted me. More'n my job's worth ter tell yeh that." Lilly pursed her lips in an annoyed way, but said nothing.

Griphook held the door open for them as they exited the shining lobby. Lilly was surprised to see that instead of marble, they found themselves standing on a ledge, staring into a great, cavernous chamber. The place was illuminated with a strange, blue light that seemed to come from everywhere. Rough, uneven, rock walls jutted out; spindly railway tracks clinging to their sides. There were a few carts riding these rails, some empty, some with passengers. Lilly watched as one cart hurtled along a stretch of track, took a rather precarious turn on two wheels and vanished round the bend. They could hear the rumbling and creaking of many other carts echoing throughout the cavern.

"Watch your step," Griphook said, chuckling darkly before he gave a whistle. Lilly looked over the edge and saw that the sheer drop went down into nothing. A cart came careening towards them and Lilly had to jump back to avoid being knocked over into the abyss.

"Young people," Griphook grumbled, getting into the cart, "do they _ever_ listen when I caution them? No." Lilly pretended not to hear this and clambered, unabashedly, into the back row of the cart, followed by Harry. Hagrid joined Griphook—with some difficulty—in the front and they were off.

They hurtled away through the giant cave and plunged into a tiny, pitch-black tunnel; Lilly ignored the claustrophobic panic rising in her chest. They suddenly opened out of the tunnel and then were ricocheting away through wide, multi-laned tunnels, bursting into atriums and going back in to the dark again. Lilly tried to remember: left, right, left, left, middle fork, left, second to the left, but soon realized it was impossible. The rattling cart seemed to know its own way, because Griphook wasn't steering.

Her eyes stung as the cold air rushed past them but she let out a howl of delight as they sped up. Griphook turned around to glare at her; she refused to blush but kept quiet after that. Once, Lilly thought she saw a burst of fire at the end of a passage and twisted to see if it was a dragon, out of the corner of her eye she saw Harry whip around to double-take the same thing ("Did you see—!") but it was too late —they had already rocketed further into the depths of the earth.

Ten minutes; three terrifying, gravity-defying plunges; five sharp turns on all of two wheels, and the most panicking, exhilarating, wonderful, oh-my-gosh-that-was-the-most-fun-I've-ever-had-in-my-life ride, the cart stopped at last beside a small door in the rock wall. Hagrid jumped out immediately—decidedly a deep shade of green—and sat down on the rock ledge outside the door. He put his head down between his legs and gave a mighty shudder.

"Alright Hagrid?" Harry asked, kneeling next to him.

"Bes' keep me mouth closed, Harry," Hagrid mumbled. Harry quickly scrambled back and regarded the giant man with concern in his eyes.

Meanwhile, Griphook had stepped around them with something like disgust on his face and unlocked the door to the Potter's safe. A lot of green smoke billowed out and as it cleared, Lilly gasped in shock.

"Harry?" she finally squeaked.

"…just take deep breaths Hagrid; in out, in out…"

"_Harry!_"

"What!?"

"Come here, _now_!" Harry rolled his eyes and ambled over to where Lily was standing in front of the vault.

"What is it?" he asked.

"I think…I think we _are_ in Aladdin."

**A/N: oh my gosh guys I am _so_ sorry, school really picked up and I do _not_ like getting back into a schedule! Right now I'm supposed to be studying for a test…  
****Hopefully I'll be able to get into the swing of things and updates won't take forever like this anymore. Hope you're all doing great, and I'd love to hear some feedback (hint hint!) or if you just want to discuss the meaning of life and how to live it I'm here for PMing too! Either way I love getting emails!  
****That's enough of me—**

**TTFN! (Tata fer now)**

**~FND**


	17. NOT AN UPDATE

NOT AN UPDATE:

Okay, so as much as I love this story to bits and pieces (no joke: I have conversations with Lilly Potter regularly as we debate on where this will go and I act out every scene before I type it) and I have it all flushed out, it is going on hiatus. If you want to know why, and understand I'm not trying to sound like a complaining, bitching, under-rated author (no, scratch that, cause we all know it's true…), but its because of lack of interest and I got three reviews last time and my other story got seven and that's enough to make a difference for me. Until then, I will keep writing and maybe get a couple chapters done but I feel bad about giving such irregular updates, so I'll just clean up some of the other chapters and update once the other story is done. So I'm going to finish that one (it's called Happy Idiots, it's a Titanic fic—yes, I know the entire movie is a cliché and a liability for me as an author but I'm a real sucker and got all upset when Jack died—_again_, might I add!—so I decided to write my own, happier ending, and in my opinion, it's better than the movie, so check it out on my profile) So yeah, hiatus…very sorry…Happy Idiots…Lilly has refused to speak to me on account of my closing her down for a while and I told her to stick it up her ass…PM me if you're bored or want a friend to talk to cause I love getting emails and feeling like I'm needed…okay maybe that last bit wasn't necessary.

I guess I'll just be done then.

~FND~


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